Spirited Away
by CoronaIgnis
Summary: Verb, past tense. Meaning: "To be abducted by supernatural entities." In this case, those entities would be wizards, and their abductee is none other than the very annoyed Danny Fenton.
1. Chapter 1

I own neither Harry Potter nor Danny Phantom. Please do not sue, because suing is mean and you don't want to be mean, do you? Also, please note that this disclaimer applies to the entire fic and therefore gives you even less excuse to sue.

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><p><strong>Chapter one: In which Danny impersonates a lawyer<strong>

"I still think it sucks that you had to give up wizard school."

Danny laughed. "It's not that bad, Tuck."

"Actually, it kind of is," Sam pointed out. "It's _wizard school,_ Danny. How many people have an opportunity to go to wizard school?"

"I'm guessing that most wizards get the chance," her boyfriend quipped. Sam punched at him, but the laughing halfa dodged easily. "And besides, it's called Hogwarts. That's probably the most badly-named school in the entire world, with the possible exception of Swine Flu Academy and Bacon High."

"There's a place called Bacon High?" Tucker sounded skeptical.

"Of course not," Danny replied dismissively. "I made it up."

"Well, if a place named Hogwarts actually exists, you never know."

The halfa acknowledged his point with a nod. "Maybe if I didn't have to deal with all these ghost attacks, I'd've ignored the name and actually gone. But…." He shrugged eloquently. "I have to deal with all these ghost attacks. And so here I am, stuck in non-wizard-y Casper High for another two years." He grinned.

As one, the three friends ascended FentonWorks's front stairs. "Come on," Danny enthused, forgetting all about Hogwarts. "Maddie made snicker doodles."

"Oh, _yum!_" Tucker cried, flinging wide the door.

He froze.

The adult Fentons (not counting Jazz, who was already at college) and two women who could only be witches sat waiting in the living room. Danny recognized one of them: Emily Ebert, the government official who had introduced him to the world of wizards, explained its laws to him (at least, the pertinent ones), and overseen his O.W.L.s. The other woman was completely unfamiliar to him. Tall and skinny as a rapier, she appeared to be around Evangeline's age.

Danny silently cursed his inattention. He had the ability to sense magic- it was apparently a product of his fire powers, just as his ghost sense was part of his cryokinesis- but he had to focus to utilize it.

Keeping his face neutral, he said, "Hi, Mrs. Ebert. Who's your friend?"

As he spoke, he reached out with what Tucker called his wizzy-sense. It skipped over Emily and the non-magical humans- Muggles, they were called- and focused on the stranger.

She felt like a cat. That was the first thing Danny noticed, mostly because it was so strange. He'd seen a few wizards before while shopping for his schoolbooks last April, but none of them had reminded him of a cat. Actually, they hadn't reminded him of any kind of animal.

Cat Lady was also moderately powerful- not an unstoppable force, but tough and strong enough to put up a fight if she decided to attack.

_Chill, Fenton-Phantom,_ he ordered himself. _She's not going to attack you. You're just being paranoid, as usual. _

The shy, tiny witch didn't quite meet his eyes as she answered him. "This is Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall, this is the student I was telling you about, Daniel Fenton."

"Please to meet you," Cat Lady recited.

Danny didn't echo the sentiment. His brain fixated on the word _student. _"Mrs. Ebert, what's going on?"

"Perhaps we could continue this discussion in private?" McGonagall suggested, shooting a pointed look at Sam and Tucker. As unrelated Muggles, they weren't supposed to know about the existence of wizards. That hadn't stopped Danny from telling them anyway, of course. He didn't keep anything from his friends- not his clone/twin, not his fear of the future, not wizard school.

Of course, McGonagall and Ebert had no way of knowing that. Even if they had known, they wouldn't have let Sam and Tucker stay and hear what was going on. They'd give the two Muggles a mind-wipe and add a scolding to whatever they wanted to talk with Danny about.

The halfa forced a strained smile. "Sorry, guys. How about we meet at the Nasty Burger at seven? This should be taken care of by then."

The full-humans shot him two worried glances. They, too, had heard the word _student, _and they disliked it as much as Danny did.

But almost two years of ghost hunting had transformed them into excellent actors and even better liars. "Sure thing, Danny," Sam said, keeping her voice light and easy. "We'll meet you at our usual booth. We can get that new smoothie they just came out with."

Tucker nodded. "I've already scheduled it on Pendra." He held up his PDA.

"You're so weird," Danny muttered fondly, rolling his eyes. "See you then, guys."

The moment the door closed behind his two friends, all pretense of casualness dropped from his face. "I don't know what Mrs. Ebert's told you, Professor, but I'm not a student."

Cat Lady shook her head. "I'm afraid, Mr. Fenton, that you are."

The hybrid's eyes narrowed. "Uh, no, I'm _not._ The law says that I don't have to attend school if I've proven myself competent with a wand, gotten a tutor, or received three O.W.L.s. I didn't just get three O.W.L.s- I got _four._ Astronomy, History of Magic, Herbology, and Potions."

"Normally, Danny, you'd be right." Ebert wrung her hands together. "Unfortunately, none of those subjects use wands."

"So?" He folded his arms across his chest. "The law didn't specify that I had to learn wand-related subjects. It just said that I had to get three O.W.L.s, and I did."

Ebert joined McGonagall in shaking her head. "I admit that you've completed the letter of the law, but you haven't fulfilled its spirit. Those laws were passed to assure that underage wizards such as yourself could control their accidental magic."

"Which I _can,_" he interjected. "I'm so good at controlling accidental magic that you guys didn't even detect me until a few months ago. I figure, if a bunch of wizards with magic-detecting equipment didn't notice I was magical until after my fifteenth birthday, eight years after they detect magic in normal wizards, the Muggles won't notice either. Besides, here in Amity Park, they'd just blame anything weird on ghosts and leave it at that."

McGonagall's lips thinned. Wizards didn't like Amity Park's ghosts.

Until Walker's invasion a year and a half ago, the wizarding community had never even heard of the ectoplasmic entities commonly called ghosts. They were accustomed to wispy specters, quiet and content to haunt magical places. Those spirits stayed hidden, under control; they were no threat to the International Statute of Secrecy.

Amity Park's ghosts were… decidedly less quiet.

The American Ministry had managed to cover up Walker's invasion. Pariah Dark, though, had been an entirely different story. Nothing could make the world at large forget that a whole city had been sucked into an alternate dimension, or that the incident had been broadcast around the world.

The long and short of it was that wizards were not overly fond of Amity Park's blatantly supernatural visitors.

"They _would,_" Danny continued. "People blame _everything_ on ghosts here. Like the summer cold everyone in town got in July- the media was honestly speculating whether or not ghosts were behind that, when it was really just a regular old cold."

"Not necessarily," Maddie interrupted.

Her former son rolled his eyes. "See? Everyone blames everything on ghosts. With ghosts around, who needs wizards?"

"Whether or not that is the case," Emily cut in, "the law-"

"-says that I need three O.W.L.s. I have four. Problem solved. Bye." Danny gestured to the door.

Ebert was not impressed. "Four O.W.L.s in subjects which didn't require wands. Tell me, Danny, do you even have one?"

"Of course not," he replied flippantly. "I want nothing to do with the wizarding world. I've told you that."

"I'm sorry, Danny," the witch sighed, "but you really have no choice. Since you don't know how to use a wand, you can't control your magic. Since you can't control your magic, you might accidentally use it where Muggles can see."

"And blame it on ghosts," he pointed out.

Her jaw tightened. "Since you might accidentally break the International Statute of Secrecy-"

"-which is useless anyways, because of all the super-powered ghosts flying around-"

"-you have to go to a wizard school." Ebert was almost shouting by now. "Since you have already gotten yourself expelled from every wizard school in North America, you will be going to Hogwarts."

"No thanks."

"You have no choice, Mr. Fenton," McGonagall told him. Her voice was filled with ice. "The law requires you to attend a wizard school."

"No it doesn't," he repeated, stubborn as always. "It requires me to get three-"

"Your state's magical senator disagrees," the British witch interrupted. "She passed a statewide law that all underage wizards must prove themselves competent with a wand."

Danny's jaw sagged. "You're kidding me. When did _that_ happen?"

"Yesterday, actually," Ebert muttered. She had the grace to sound embarrassed. "And it's effective immediately."

"Why are you protesting so much, sweetie?" asked Maddie, honestly confused. She and Jack had encouraged their son to attend wizard school, if only for one very specific reason. "If you go to Hogwarts, you can learn magical ways to destroy ghosts!"

The halfa grit his teeth. "For the last time, Mom, I don't want to destroy ghosts, with or without magic. I'd much rather cling to the shattered remnants of my normalcy, thank you very much."

"The fact of the matter is, Mr. Fenton, that you are _not_ normal."

Danny fought back a snort. You have no idea, Cat Lady.

"And just as you have no choice about being more than normal, you have no choice about attending Hogwarts. Or, if you get yourself expelled from Hogwarts as you've done for the American academies, you will be obligated to attend another school. One that does not speak English and is even further away from your home than Britain is."

The not speaking English part didn't faze Danny at all. He had recently gained the gift of tongues, the ability to understand every language, including sign languages and some codes. And Pig Latin, of all things. It was the further-away-from-home part that made him flinch.

He had a _duty,_ blast it all! He couldn't just up and leave, abandoning his people to the ghostly hordes. Sure, Sam and Tucker were great hunters, but Team Phantom had been weakened enough by Jazz's departure. They couldn't afford to lose another member. (Not that Danny blamed Jazz for leaving. It wasn't every day that you got a full-ride scholarship to Hartford University, a latecomer than the Ivy League, and she had a future to think about.)

And even though these witches didn't know he had that duty (he didn't blame them, either), hadn't he made it pretty obvious that he didn't want to go to wizard school? He'd fulfilled their laws, he'd even gone and gotten an extra O.W.L. In his opinion, the senator had _no right_ to pass a law at the last second that would ship him off to Britain.

"Look," he growled. "I know I can't get a tutor because of the no-magic-outside-of-school thing, but I turn seventeen in March. That's not even a year from now- just over half a year, actually. If I promise to start learning how to use a wand the second I come of age, will you let me stay here?"

From the expressions on the witches' faces, Danny guessed that the answer was no.

"Why not?" He knew he sounded whiny, like a spoiled little kid, but anything was better than letting them drag him off.

"The law is the law, Danny," Ebert sighed.

"Which law is the law?" he snapped back. "The new one that was probably passed just to spite me, or the one about the O.W.L.s?"

Ebert closed her eyes. Danny could practically hear her counting to ten. "Professor McGonagall will pick you up tomorrow at six A.M. She'll bring you to Diagon Alley to get your wand and schoolbooks. Then she'll go with you to Hogwarts. You should be there in time for the Sorting."

"I. Am. Not. Going. _Anywhere._ With a name. Like. Hogwarts." Danny folded his arms across his chest. His gaze just _begged_ them to argue.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Fenton, that you have no choice."

"You realize that I'll just get myself expelled within the first week, right?"

"We'll ship you off to France. Then Bulgaria. Then Sweden. Iceland. Italy. Spain. Macedonia. Need I continue, Mr. Fenton?"

"No, you don't," Maddie answered for her silent son. "He'll be there, Professor. See you then."

The witches nodded. They stood, spun, disappeared.

"Start packing, sweetie," Maddie ordered. "You can't learn to destroy ghosts with magic until you're packed."

"Mom, I'm not-" He paused, considering. "Okay. I'll go pack."

Most mothers would have been suspicious by the sudden change of heart. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), Maddie wasn't most mothers. She was completely oblivious to everything except what she wanted to see, and right then she wanted to see Danny willing to go to Hogwarts, where he could learn how to murder ghosts.

Danny spent the rest of the afternoon shoving things into his suitcase- not just things he would need at wizard school, but spare ghost-hunting equipment, food, money, his ID and license, his laptop with its charger, his cell phone with its charger, and a pillow and blankets.

At that point, the suitcase was literally filled to bursting. Danny glanced at the other things he wanted to bring- books about ghosts, mostly; not the tripe that his ex-parents believed, but works by ghosts for ghosts- and grimaced. He didn't want to leave them behind, but they wouldn't fit into his suitcase unless- oh, duh. The halfa turned the tomes intangible and returned their solidity once they'd been packed. How he loved having superpowers….

"I'm going to the Nasty Burger now," he told his former parents after supper. "You know, say goodbye to Sam and Tucker."

"Okay, Danny." Jack teared up. "I'm so proud of you, going off to magic school to destroy GHOSTS!"

"…I'm sure you are."

He didn't bother changing into Phantom to get to the restaurant. It was within walking distance, and though he could fly, that didn't mean he lacked legs.

He was the first to arrive. Tucker came next, followed shortly by Sam. "Okay, spill," she ordered, sliding into her seat. "What was that about?"

Danny spent the next several minutes ranting about the senator's new law and the general idiocy of the wizarding world.

"That can't be legal," Sam hissed.

"Hey, you've read their history books. You _know_ wizards are crazy."

"So what're you going to do?" Tucker asked. "Because if you're going to go quietly, I'll eat my hat. And I have no intention of eating my hat."

"Oh, I'm going alright," Danny growled. Green lights flashed in his eyes. "Just not to Hogwarts. I'm running away."

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><p>Okay, time for some explanations. This fic was inspired by OOCness in other HPDP crossovers. I have a hard time believing that Amity Park's self-proclaimed defender would just abandon his town for a bunch of strangers halfway around the globe like he does in a bunch of other fics. I also strongly doubt that he would go around blabbing his secret to the Order or anyone else, especially if he knows how wizards treat half-humans. Last, why does every other HP crossover (not just the ones with DP) involve a complete stranger staying at the _TOP-SECRET _headquarters for a _TOP-SECRET_ organization?

In this fic, our favorite halfa will make the wizards RUE THE DAY they heard of Danny Fenton. Mwahahahahah...

-Corona


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: In which Danny practices civil disobedience**

Minerva McGonagall arrived at FentonWorks at exactly five fifty-six A.M. She settled herself in the living room with Jack and Maddie, who used the opportunity to blather on about ghosts and their goal of destroying Phantom. The professor tuned them out.

She wasn't surprised when, four minutes after her arrival, Danny failed to show up. He was a teenage boy, after all, and it was rather early here in America. He was probably just in the shower or brushing his teeth, preparing for what would certainly become a long and eventful day.

Ten minutes later, she was beginning to get annoyed. She could understand and forgive a teenager walking in thirty seconds late, but _ten _whole minutes?

It must be, the witch decided, his reluctance dragging his feet. She could not for the life of her comprehend why someone would choose not to be a wizard, but this boy _was _going to Hogwarts against his will. Of course he'd drag his departure out as long as possible.

That did not, however, mean that she would allow him to get away with it. Like it or not, he was a wizard, and as such he was obligated to learn to use his magic.

That, and she was getting rather tired of listening to Jack Fenton raving about the unspeakable things he'd like to do to Danny Phantom.

McGonagall extracted herself from the one-sided conversation by commenting on the time and asking permission to go speak with Danny. "Of course," said Maddie, who obviously hadn't realized how late it was. She scowled. "He should be ready by now. I had him get his packing done last night, and he's already said goodbye to his friends."

"Maybe he slept in," Jack suggested. "Or maybe it's a GHOST!"

"I highly doubt that, Mr. Fenton," McGonagall replied.

The three of them trekked up to Danny's room. Maddie rapped on the door. "Sweetie? We've been waiting for you for the past ten minutes. It's time to go now."

No response.

Frowning, Maddie knocked again. "Danny, you have to go to England now. And I mean _now._ You've kept Professor McGonagall waiting much too long."

"Maybe he's in the bathroom," thought Jack. He went to check, only to discover that the bathroom door was open.

"Danny," his mother growled, "come out here _now_ or we're coming in."

"Can we break the door down?" asked Jack hopefully.

"Only if it's locked," his wife replied.

"That won't be necessary," McGonagall assured them. She brandished her wand. "_Alohomora."_ She didn't have to speak the incantation aloud, but she wanted Danny to hear and realize that they really were coming in.

Maddie pushed open the door….

…only to discover that her son's room was empty.

It wasn't just empty of its usual resident. The bed had been stripped of pillow and blanket and sheets, leaving the mattress bare. His computer, a sleek gift from Tucker, wasn't at its usual place at his desk. Minerva had no doubt that if they went through the drawers, they would find them equally empty.

"GHOSTS!" Jack wailed, falling to his knees. "The GHOSTS have got my boy! Maddie, get the Fenton tracker!"

"Ghosts had nothing to do with this, Mr. Fenton," McGonagall snapped. She stalked over to the abandoned bed, picked up the note she found there. "Your son has run away."

"What?" Maddie darted forward, looked down at the note.

_Dear Mom and Dad, and not-so-dear whoever's here to pick me up, _

_As I have made it abundantly clear that I have no intention of going to wizard school, and as my enrollment in aforementioned wizard school has __got__ to be illegal, I have opted not to go. Deal with it. _

_-Danny _

Jack's mouth worked soundlessly. Finally, he managed the words, "So it's not ghosts?"

"No." McGonagall's lips had gone very, very thin. "It seems your son has left of his own volition."

Never, in all her years, had she encountered someone who would rather run away than attend Hogwarts. The thought that someone actually _would_ was incomprehensible to her. She herself reveled in being a witch, in using her magic to change the world, albeit only in small ways.

Maddie's brow crinkled in thought. "Is there some kind of finding spell you can use to hunt him down with?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, no. Magic may be used to find directions and to reveal the presence of a human being within a certain radius of the spell caster, but no wizard can find someone without the aid of a Tracking Charm of some sort, or of mundane detective work. If he were bonded to a house-elf, the elf could find him- but he is not."

Maddie considered. "Well, he can't stay out there too long. He's only sixteen- he has no idea how to survive on his own. He'll come back today or tomorrow. We can send him to Hogwarts then."

"Unless the ghosts get him," Jack pointed out, uncharacteristically serious.

His wife's eyes bulged. "You're right! To the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle!"

"The _what?_" McGonagall demanded.

The ghost hunting couple had already made their way almost out of earshot, but Maddie heard the witch's stunned question. "The RV!" she shouted back.

They referred to their car with a name like _that?_ It was no wonder that Danny had run away from parents like these. Minerva was only surprised that he hadn't done so sooner.

Then she snapped out of her horrified little reverie and ran to the garage.

Jack and Maddie were already in their ostentatiously named vehicle. They had opened the garage door and were preparing to head out. "You coming too, Minnie?" the orange-clad hunter asked.

By Merlin, she _loathed_ that nickname. "What exactly do you intend to do?"

They froze. Evidently they hadn't thought that far ahead. "Um…."

"Please tell me you didn't plan on riding that… tank… throughout the city, calling for you son at the top of your lungs." And at six-fifteen in the morning, no less.

From their guilty expressions, that was exactly what they'd intended to do. "We've done it before," Maddie defended.

Once again, McGonagall wondered why Danny hadn't left these people years earlier. And why he hadn't jumped at the opportunity to attend Hogwarts, which was an ocean away from these lunatics.

"Yeah," Jack reminisced. "It was that time that that no-good spectral slime Phantom ripped our precious Danny's face right off his head." He shuddered violently.

McGonagall was fairly certain that face-ripping was not physically possible, not if you wanted the victim to survive. She also suspected that she didn't really want to know what the real story was.

"You do realize that, as he has _run away,_ he will not come out and return here if you ask him to."

"…Good point." Jack heaved a sigh, looking very much like an overgrown child. "So what do we do?"

"Contact his friends," McGonagall advised. "He might have mentioned his plans to them, and even if he hasn't, he will probably speak with them sooner or later. Not the police, though- you can hardly show them a note saying he left because he didn't want to attend wizard school. Other than that, I suppose all you can do is wait. As you said, he _is _a teenage boy. He'll return soon."

Had Danny been an ordinary teenage boy, the cat Animagus would have been right. An ordinary teen would have stomped into the house a day or so later, hungry and dirty and tired. Then, after he'd eaten and bathed and slept, he would have gone off to Hogwarts without a complaint.

Fortunately for Danny, he was not an ordinary teenage boy. He wasn't quite as self-sufficient as his cousin/clone/honorary twin sister Danni, who had traveled the globe for years, following the Infi-map to natural portals, but he didn't need to be.

Due to the prevalence of ghost attacks, Amity Park had several abandoned houses within its city limits, especially near ghost fight hot spots. It was easy for a kid who could turn intangible to walk right into one of those houses and set up camp. At night, he broke into his school to use the showers and charge his electronics (plumbing and electricity had obviously been cut off in his new abode).

Food was slightly harder to come by than shelter, but halfas don't need to eat as much as their full-human counterparts. That's not to say they didn't have to eat. Danny pondered the problem for quite some time, even considering surviving off leftovers from the school's cafeteria, before heading into the Ghost Zone and asking the Lunch Lady (whom he had months ago convinced to stop attacking the human world. He'd just shown her some statistics on the American obesity pandemic, thereby convincing her that no, the teens of Amity Park did _not_ need to eat more) if she would feed him. She said yes, of course.

Danny was rather grateful for that. Her food was a great deal better than the cafeteria's.

Jazz, when she learned what her brother was up to, had pointed out that if he intended to go back to Casper High without being held back a grade, he probably needed to make some kind of excuse to Lancer. Danny emailed the teacher and told him that one of his parents' ghost inventions had malfunctioned, and now his body was covered in glowing green boils. As he had no idea if the potentially radioactive blemishes were contagious and reasoned that it was better to be safe than sorry, he told Lancer that he was staying home from school until they were gone. The teacher responded by emailing him a complete syllabus for all his classes, which would let Danny could fill out and hand in his homework via the school's website.

Much to his surprise, he found that he kind of liked living like this. He could go on patrol whenever he wanted. He had time to finish his homework without people breathing down his neck. No detentions, no group projects (those evil-looking green boils might just be contagious, after all) with people like Dash, no chores.

The only downside was that he couldn't be seen with Sam and Tucker in public places, and that really wasn't much of a downside. Neither the Foleys nor the Mansons knew about Danny's 'illness,' so he could hang out in their homes, and the halfa had an entire house to himself. Sure, they couldn't frequent the Nasty Burger anymore, but Tucker was perfectly capable of grabbing a few burgers and heading over to Danny's new pad.

But all in all, living on his own was downright blissful. He didn't have to worry about some new invention attacking him in his sleep. His enemies hadn't found this place yet, so they couldn't ambush him.

He lived that way for two weeks, surviving off the Lunch Lady's food, getting ahead in his schoolwork, hunting ghosts whenever he felt like it, and spending every afternoon with his friends. He found that he was almost grateful to the wizards- this lifestyle was _nice. _

If Dolores Umbridge hadn't noticed a discrepancy in her list of fifth-year students (Danny had been enrolled in that year because, although he was already sixteen, he didn't have enough magical experience to enroll in N.E.W.T-level classes), he might have continued living in that abandoned home until his seventeenth birthday. Then, when he had come of age in the wizarding world, the underage magic law wouldn't be able to touch him. Then he would be in no danger of being carted off to Britain, so he could have returned home.

Except that Dolores Umbridge _did_ notice aforementioned discrepancies, thereby throwing a monkey wrench into Danny's optimistic plans.

The witch confronted Dumbledore during supper. She lacked the authority to summon him to her office, and she flatly refused to go into his domain- that would be giving him the home advantage, something she had no intention of doing. The Great Hall, though, was neutral territory.

"I couldn't help but notice something strange in my attendance records," she commented sweetly.

"What would that be, Dolores?" Dumbledore asked disinterestedly, cutting into his pork chop.

"A student by the name of Daniel Fenton is listed in all four of my fifth-year classes, but he hasn't showed up for any of them. Why would that be, I wonder?"

Dumbledore chewed, swallowed. "Mr. Fenton is not at Hogwarts."

"Then why is his name on my records for all four Houses?" the witch demanded.

"Minerva, would you care to explain?" the headmaster inquired. "You were the only one who actually met the boy."

The Animagus's lips thinned- she already loathed Umbridge wholeheartedly- but she complied with her boss's suggestion. For the next few minutes, she elaborated on Danny Fenton's story.

The other witch simply didn't- _couldn't-_ understand. "A boy willingly renounced the magical world? He ran away from home so he wouldn't have to attend Hogwarts?" She knew she should be happy about that- one less filthy Mudblood to worry about- but the thought that anyone would _choose _to live like a Muggle was simply inconceivable. And offensive. Quite, _quite_ offensive, in fact.

But, she reasoned, if used properly, this Daniel Fenton could be gold mine. If she let it slip to Cornelius that Albus Dumbledore couldn't keep a handle on an errant student….

A wicked smile crossed her lips.

Unfortunately, Dolores had forgotten that the object of her schemes was just a few feet away and quite capable of deciphering her expression. A tiny frown creased Dumbledore's face.

He had no doubt that Umbridge would milk this for everything it was worth. And then milk it some more.

Daniel Fenton must be found.

He pondered the problem for the rest of the evening. When morning came, he had found a solution.

During her lunch break, Minerva McGonagall created a Portkey that brought them both to FentonWorks. However, the witch had forgotten the time difference, and their arrival woke the home's trigger-happy residents. Several shots were fired before the Fentons recognized the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts.

After that, things proceeded rather smoothly. Jack and Maddie agreed to Dumbledore's plan immediately, giving him their permission to carry it out. The headmaster thanked them profusely before scribing and enchanting his letter.

He had brought an owl along, one of Hogwarts's best tracking birds. He attached the letter to the animal's leg. "Find Daniel Fenton," he ordered quietly. The bird hooted solemnly and soared through the window.

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm afraid that I must now take my leave of you. When that Portkey activates, young Daniel will find himself in my office, and I'd like to be there to provide an explanation."

"Of course," Maddie said cheerily.

The headmaster bowed slightly and Disapparated.

Forty-five minutes later, Danny gave in to the incessant pecking at his window and let the owl in. "What're you here for?" he grumbled, tousling his hair. "Haven't I already told them that _I'm not going to wizard school?_"

The owl seemed to shrug.

Danny laughed softly. "You're right. It's not your fault, birdy. Sorry for growling at you." He patted its back.

The owl hooted its forgiveness. Then, remembering that it had a job to do, it held out its leg.

The halfa rolled his eyes. "Wonder what they'll say this time?" he muttered.

Still smiling, he took hold of the Portkey.

* * *

><p>So Dumbles just kidnapped a paranoid, super-powered half-ghost with years of combat experience and a fairly large chip in his shoulder. What could possibly go right?<p>

On another note, I'd like to introduce the Rue-the-day-o-meter. It's a scale that goes from 1 to 10 and measures how much wizards are ruing the day they heard of Danny Fenton. 1 means they're neutral; 10 means they're ready to chase him away with torches and pitchforks. After every chapter, you guys get to tell my how much you think they're ruing the day. At the next chapter, I'll tell you guys the average and the process can repeat itself.

The face-ripping incident is a reference to "Forever Phantom."

-Corona


	3. Chapter 3

**In which the Sorting Hat cannot do its job**

Like most teenagers, Danny Fenton-Phantom did not enjoy being kidnapped. Unlike other teens, however, he knew exactly how to handle it: get the heck out of there as soon as possible.

The Portkey deposited him in a smallish room filled with odd-looking silver instruments, mobile portraits, and six people he would later learn were Albus Dumbledore, Dolores Umbridge, and the four Heads of House. At the moment, though, all he saw were six enemies.

Danny's wizzy-sense snapped into action, allowing him to isolate the most powerful threat. Not surprisingly, it informed him that Dumbledore was by far the most dangerous. Therefore, Dumbledore had to be taken down before the others.

Half a second after appearing in the headmaster's office, Danny punched Albus Percival Wulfric too-many-titles-to-remember Brian Dumbledore right in the center of his face.

The wizard was down, clutching his now-broken nose. McGonagall, yelling, leapt to her feet. Danny spun, tripping her. She fell, knocking over Tiny (Danny's impromptu name for Filius Flitwick) and The Nose (Snape).

Danny's momentum carried him around. He caught a brief glimpse of Toad (weak and fat, shouldn't be much of a threat) and Apples (she was fairly powerful, but her magic felt tied to plants. There weren't any plants present, so she probably wouldn't have much to contribute) before seeing the door.

The halfa charged. He sprinted through the door, not bothering to shut it behind him, taking the stairs three at a time.

If the furious Apples hadn't followed him down the stairs (albeit at a much slower pace), or even if she hadn't considerately made her presence known by shrieking imprecations most dire at the top of her lungs, Danny would have gone ghost and flown out of there. But he wasn't stupid enough to transform in front of a witness, so it was a human who made his way past the gargoyles and into the hall.

Oh, crud, there was a person here. A kid, not particularly powerful and kind of stupid-looking, but still a witness. And speaking of witnesses, those portraits were _talking._ Triple crud- he'd just remembered that wizard portraits talked. If he changed in front of them, they'd _definitely _report it to Dumbledore. Then it was off to the wizarding Guys in White for him.

So what he had to do was either find a way out of the castle (Hogwarts was a castle, right?) or find a place where no one would see him go ghost. Or he could just find a window and jump out, assuming they hadn't reinforced their glass. Which, given his luck, they probably had. So that plan was out.

Quadruple crud, he thought as he dodged a beam of light. Was Apples _shooting_ at him?

Yes, she was.

The sight of an unfamiliar boy in Muggle pajamas sprinting through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts and being shot at by Pomona Sprout naturally gathered a bit of an audience. Fortunately, Danny was fast enough to outrun them.

Right, left, straight, straight, left. Paintings on the walls, students in the halls. Witnesses.

Danny saw a staircase at the end of the hall. He ran towards it- it went down, and he needed to get to the ground floor if he wanted to get out of here (which he did).

Then the staircase moved, as staircases at Hogwarts are wont to do. Danny skidded to a halt, gawking. Why in this world or the next was the staircase _moving?_

He had not read _Hogwarts, a History._ He had no idea that the staircases rotated on a random basis and had been doing so for the past thousand years. Because he did not know that, his mind leapt to the obvious conclusion: Twinkles, the old man whose face he had punched, had regained consciousness and used his headmaster powers to turn the castle itself against him.

Okay, Fenton-Phantom. Stay calm. Just because the school itself seems to be alive and against you is no reason to panic. All you have to do is find another way out.

Unfortunately, his delay had given Sprout the opportunity to catch up with him. The apple-cheeked witch was red in the face and sweating, but it was clear that she wasn't about to give up her pursuit. Just to prove that she had no intention of letting him go, she fired another spell at him. Danny, whose reflexes had been honed from years of ghost hunting, dodged easily.

Several twists and turns later, Danny found himself at a dead end. He spun, searching for a door or turn to run through, but found nothing.

If he'd been paying slightly more attention to his surroundings instead of just the person shooting at him, he might have noticed the powerful magical presence moving through the walls (actually through a secret passage). In fact, he did notice the presence, but he thought that it was someone in another room, not someone coming straight for him.

He ran towards Sprout, dodging her curses. He could make it, he was young and fit and powerful and she was not; she couldn't-

Then Albus Dumbledore hit him in the back with a Stunner, and the world went black.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Hermione Granger and her friends sat down at the Gryffindor table. "I wonder why Professor Dumbledore told everyone to come here at six," she said.<p>

Ron shrugged. "I reckon it has something to do with that rumor about a Muggle getting inside."

"D'you believe the rumor?" Harry asked.

The redhead snorted. "Course not. How would a Muggle get into Hogwarts? And did you hear the bit about Sprout chasing him down?" He guffawed. "_Sprout,_ going after someone with Stunners and Body-binds."

The image of their petite Herbology professor chasing a helpless Muggle made his friends laugh.

"Oh, look," noted Hermione when their laughter died down, "there they are now."

Every professor save for McGonagall (and Hagrid, who still hadn't returned from wherever he was) filed into the Great Hall. Even Sybil Trelawney had climbed down from her tower.

Most of the professors sat in their customary places. Dumbledore, though, remained standing. "Doubtless you are all wondering why we have called you together this day." He smiled slightly. "And doubtless you are all wondering if this meeting has anything to do with rumors of a Muggle inside Hogwarts."

Several students, including the three Gryffindors, nodded.

"I assure you that no Muggle entered our school today. However, it gives me great pleasure to welcome a transfer student from the United States of America, one Daniel Fenton. He will be joining fifth year, and I have called you together to witness his Sorting."

"A transfer?" Hermione murmured, frowning thoughtfully. "How strange." Especially, she thought grimly, since Voldemort had returned mere months ago.

The doors of the Great Hall swung open once again. As one, the student body turned. As one, the student body gawked.

"Er, Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Am I going mad, or is McGonagall levitating a rather angry-looking bloke in pajamas and a full Body-bind down the hall?"

"You're not going mad, Ron."

"Oh. Good. Er… _why_ is McGonagall levitating the transfer in a full Body-bind?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

Ron had made quite the understatement when he described Danny as 'rather angry-looking.' The halfa's blue eyes burned with utter fury. They alternated between McGonagall, who was levitating him; to Dumbledore, who had Stunned him in the back; to Umbridge, who had come up with the brilliant idea of placing the Body-bind on him after his second escape attempt, which had resulted in her losing no fewer than five teeth (the escape attempt, not the Body-bind. He'd obviously hit her before being hit himself). After tonight's Sorting, she had an appointment with Madame Pomfrey. Except for the furious, fiery eyes, Danny's entire face was dark as a thundercloud at midnight.

McGonagall conjured a bench, placed the hybrid on it. She took out the Sorting Hat, began moving it towards his head. For the first time, the halfa's expression changed. He seemed… afraid.

Hermione, watching, frowned. Why would anyone fear the hat…

…unless he had something to hide?

* * *

><p>When McGonagall had told Danny that all new students were subjected to mind-rape via talking hat, he had panicked. That, of course, had set off his disastrous second escape attempt and several rants on how this could not possibly be legal, and he was an American citizen, and if they stuck that hat on his head he would <em>sue the pants off them<em>.

That was when Umbridge had put the Body-bind on him. Not only did it prevent another escape attempt, it would keep him from raving and threatening them.

Oh, yes. _That_ was going in the lawsuit.

But right now, he had more immediate things to deal with. Like the hat that was going to read his mind, discover all his secrets, announce those secrets to everyone, and get him thrown into the wizard equivalent of the Guys in White headquarters, where he would be subject to lots and lots of painful experiments.

He had read enough magical history to know that wizards were not particularly tolerant of non- or half-humans. Add that to their dislike of Amity Park's ghosts….

What if he could keep the hat out of his mind? There had to be _some_ way to do that, there just _had _to be. But how?

Oh, crappity crap _crap._ She was about to put the hat on his head.

Danny did the only thing he could think of: he shoved his mind into a gigantic imaginary Fenton thermos and closed it tight.

Fenton thermos, Fenton thermos. He knew it inside and out, every gray line and green stripe, its proportions, the cramped darkness within….

A normal teen wouldn't have been able to do it. A normal teen's shields would have disintegrated within the first few seconds. But Danny Fenton-Phantom, Pariah's Bane, lord in four kingdoms, Champion-Defender of the Two Worlds, was no ordinary teen. Having ghost powers that could act up at any second without notice had taught him how to _focus_, excluding everything else.

He applied those same principles here, using all his energy to keep himself within the imaginary thermos and the Sorting Hat outside. Blood pounded in his ears, but he scarcely heard it.

_Fenton thermos, Fenton thermos, slightly oval on the outside, just under a foot long…._

"Mr. Fenton," said the Sorting Hat, annoyed, "please lower your Occlumency shields."

At the Head Table, Dumbledore and Snape stiffened. They were the only people in Hogwarts who had even heard of Occlumency (besides the hat, of course). They both knew from experience how difficult it was. How, then, was an untrained teenager keeping the Sorting Hat, something whose magic centered around Legilimency, out of his mind?

Naturally, Danny didn't oblige the headpiece's request. It repeated, slightly louder than before, "Mr. Fenton, I need you to lower your Occlumency shields. I can't Sort you until you allow me access to your mind."

_Not gonna happen. Fenton thermos, warm round darkness within, guarding all my secrets…._

He could feel the hat prodding at the imaginary thermos, searching for a weak point. Danny extended a mental hand to the inner surface of the thermos's cap. He held on tight. Even if the Sorting Hat found the release button, it wouldn't be able to open the device while Danny was holding onto it.

_Ha._

Maybe, if he was really, really lucky, the stupid thing would give up. And if he wasn't Sorted, maybe the wizards would let him go home!

Okay, that last bit wasn't exactly likely, but neither was a telepathic hat.

His shields, already strong, were strengthened further by something other than his sheer stubbornness. Ghosts had a natural resistance to magic. Danny was only half-ghost, so his immunity wasn't quite so strong (though he had every intention of changing that). A fulling wouldn't have been affected by the Stunner or Body-bind- but then again, a fulling couldn't use a wand. Danny's immunity was weak, but when combined with his mental Fenton Thermos it was still more than the headpiece could deal with.

"Albus," the hat growled, "why isn't this student letting me Sort him? He won't even tell me that much."

Of course he wouldn't tell the stupid thing that much, because that would let it into his mind, and that was the last thing Danny wanted.

_Fenton thermos. Fenton thermos. Fenton thermos…. _

Dumbledore heaved a sigh. "Mr. Fenton has… expressed reluctance about attending Hogwarts."

Murmurs broke out throughout the Great Hall. Danny felt a flash of annoyance- what, didn't you people think I had a _life_ before wizard school? And I liked that life a _lot,_ thank you very much.

"Why?" the hat asked, just as befuddled as the humans.

_Why?_ This flash of anger was almost hot enough to burn through Danny's hastily erected shields. Maybe because the wizards had _kidnapped _him?

But of course, Dumbledore wasn't going to mention that little detail. "He had no desire to leave his friends and family."

"Loyalty, eh?" the hat said. "Then it'd better be HUFFLEPUFF!" The last word was shouted loudly enough to hurt Danny's sensitive ears. Sometimes, heightened senses were more trouble than they were worth.

Fearing that the hat's declaration might have been an attempt to lull him into a false sense of security, he kept his shields at full strength until McGonagall removed the cap from his head. Only then did he let himself relax.

"Remember that we have you under a Tracking Charm," she muttered, too quietly for anyone else to hear. Then she released him from the Body-bind.

Danny was tempted- so, so tempted- to head for the hills. Let's see how that Tracking Charm works in the Ghost Zone, shall we? But he swallowed the temptation, realizing that any escape attempt would be met with spell fire and heightened security.

No he would bide his time, figure out how to remove the Tracking Charm. He could probably do that by increasing his natural immunity to magic until it was as powerful as a full ghost's. Or maybe, if he could find a book on Tracking Charms in the library, he could remove it himself. Then he'd return to Amity Park, to his duty and destiny.

And Heaven help the wizard who tried to stop him.

* * *

><p>Fulling: my term for a full-human or a full-ghost.<p>

Last chapter, seventeen people voted on the Rue-the-day-o-meter. The averaged-out score was 3.27. Scores ranged from 1 to 5.6. Remember to cast your vote on the aforementioned Rue-the-day-o-meter (rules can be seen in Chapter 2).

Spoiler: In a few chapters, I shall introduce an OC named Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious, Overlord of Hufflepuff. How much can you figure out about him before he actually appears? Nyx, you are not allowed to answer because you already know who Randall is.

-Corona


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four: In which the Golden Trio commits mail theft**

"It's dodgy," Hermione announced. "Call me paranoid, but I can't believe that a transfer who comes to Hogwarts mere months after You-Know-Who's return and refuses to let the Sorting Hat into his mind…. Well, I don't see how that could be a coincidence."

"Same here," Harry agreed, glancing over towards the Hufflepuff table.

Fenton was still wearing his pajamas. He sat alone, stiff as a board, glaring suspiciously at the staff table. Occasionally one of the staff (usually Umbridge, Snape, or Sprout) would glare back. Then Fenton would narrow his eyes and the teacher would back down.

Yes. The new kid was angry enough that even Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, couldn't look at him for long.

"That's not the only odd thing about him," Ron noted. "Why's he in his jammies?"

Hermione nodded. "Why isn't he attending an American school? Why did he run from Professor Sprout this afternoon? Why was he _levitated_ into the Great Hall? And why didn't he arrive at the start of term? We're already two weeks in; he'll be horribly behind in his classes."

"Maybe Voldemort didn't recruit him until just now," Harry suggested quietly.

His friends flinched involuntarily at the name.

"So you really do think he's a Death Eater?" Hermione queried.

"I don't know," her friend sighed. "It would certainly explain some things, like why he wouldn't let the hat Sort him, but there are other things that it doesn't explain."

"That doesn't mean we can rule it out," Hermione commented.

Harry nodded.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Ron muttered. He cast another glance at the Hufflepuff table and shuddered. "That Fenton bloke is the scariest badger I've ever seen."

"He doesn't seem to like Snape, though," Harry observed. "Wouldn't they be chummier if they were both Death Eaters? Or maybe," he acquiesced, "they're just pretending. I don't know."

"So," Hermione concluded, "Fenton might be a Death Eater, but we don't know for certain. How are we going to find out?"

"I'll look at him on the Marauder's Map," Harry decided. "Just in case he's another Crouch. I don't think Voldemort will do that again, but it was pretty effective last time, so maybe he will."

"I wish he was in Gryffindor," Hermione sighed. "Then it would be so much easier to keep an eye on him."

Ron looked at her as though she'd declared her undying love for Snape. "If he were in Gryffindor, he'd sleep in the same dorm as Harry and me. I don't want a Death Eater anywhere near my bed."

"I can look at his dot on the map between classes," Harry volunteered.

Hermione chewed her lip. "That's a good plan, Harry, but I don't think it's enough. It would be horribly difficult to find proof that he's a Death Eater- or, I suppose, proof that he isn't- just by looking at the map. We need to do something more."

"We have Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, don't we?" asked Ron. "Maybe one of us could partner with him or something."

"But if he is a Death Eater, that would be playing right into his hands," Harry pointed out.

Ron scowled but was forced to admit that his friend had a point.

"I wonder," Hermione muttered, gaze riveted on the new arrival. "I wonder… yes, I suppose that _would _work…."

"Mind cluing us non-geniuses in?" asked Ron hopefully.

Hermione looked around the Gryffindor table. No one was paying attention to them. Still, when she spoke, her voice was low. "If he sends out any mail, we could intercept it. A Death Eater would send lots of letters, I think, and many of them would be in code. I can read up on cryptography and Decoding Spells…."

Harry was nodding. "Great idea, Hermione. We should make copies of any incriminating letters. And if we don't find any, we can just stop reading his mail."

She nodded back.

"Personally," grumbled Ron, "I don't think finding incriminating evidence will be that difficult. The only thing I wonder is how much we'll find."

* * *

><p>"Your behavior today was despicable."<p>

Danny arched an eyebrow at his new Head of House. "_My _behavior was despicable? I'm not the one who _kidnapped-"_

"Despicable," Sprout repeated, more loudly than before. "Especially in these troubled times."

That, of course, made her reluctant pupil pay attention. "What's that mean?"

She waved a negligent hand. "Never you mind- it's of no concern to students. Now, Mr. Fenton, we have no intention of expelling you."

"Darn."

Sprout's eye twitched. "We've been warned about you, so don't think that you can repeat your little trick with those mutant sausages."

Danny grinned widely, partly because he knew it would annoy her and partly because the memory _was _pretty funny.

Months ago, when American magical academies had been trying to recruit him, Danny had needed a way to ensure that they weren't interested in him. In other words, he had to convince the headmasters that they did NOT want him anywhere near their school.

He had done so by inviting the heads to his home for dinner and a discussion. He said that he wanted to weigh the options, figure out which school was the best fit for him. The heads had foolishly agreed.

Danny had dressed himself in a neon orange jumpsuit and several pounds of highly visible ecto-weaponry. He'd spent the entire meeting impersonating his father- blathering on about ghosts and completely ignoring the wizards' increasingly obvious horror. Then, very sweetly, he told them that he had a special type of familiar and could they look at them, please, and tell him if he could bring his pets to school with him?

By that point, they had been desperate to hear about anything other than ghosts. They agreed. Danny then proceeded to open the refrigerator and extract the mutant talking hot dogs which had dwelt there for almost two years.

The hot dogs took one look at the appalled, bug-eyed wizards and attacked.

"But they're my familiars," Danny whined to the Head of Hufflepuff.

"Here at Hogwarts, undead meat products are not allowed as pets." Sprout's tone made it clear that she was not going to budge. "Tomorrow, when you go to Diagon Alley, you may purchase a cat or an owl or a toad."

Danny went still. They were letting him out of the school tomorrow?

"Don't even think about it," Sprout cautioned. "Remember that Dumbledore has you under a Tracking Charm, and we _will_ be sending a chaperone with to make sure you don't escape. And even if, against all odds, you manage to elude your escort, how do you intend to get home? You have no passport or money. You're stuck."

The halfa suppressed a snort. _I can fly, lady. And as for the Tracking Charm… okay, that could be a problem. Maybe it would wear off if I went into the Ghost Zone?_ He imagined the wizards' reaction to the Far Frozen- let's see them fight an army of yetis to get me back!- and grinned.

Sprout's expression of suspicion grew even more pronounced.

But, he mused, face growing stoic again, if the spell _didn't_ wear off, I'd have a lot of explaining to do. Normal kids or even untrained wizards can't get into the Ghost Zone. And I can't open natural portals yet- I'd have to find one or go back to Amity Park, and that would give them a lot of time to notice I'm missing.

No, it was best to go with his first plan: get rid of the Tracking Charm, then head for the hills and never, ever accept a letter from an owl again.

"As you are now a member of my House-" (something Sprout plainly regretted) "-you are accountable to me for your misdeeds."

"What misdeeds? Freaking out when a bunch of wizards kidnapped me?"

"I _hope,_ Mr. Fenton, that you have learned from your mistakes."

"Trust me, I have."

She pondered that for a few seconds before deciding to deliberately misinterpret it. "Good. I expect you here at eight o'clock on the spot tomorrow."

"What happens if I don't show?"

"Another Body-bind."

Danny scowled. "Oh, wonderful. You know, maybe the mere fact that you have to-"

Sprout's hand twitched involuntarily toward her wand. Danny shut up, gaze riveted on the stick.

"I will bring you to the Common Room now," she growled. "Follow me, Mr. Fenton."

The halfa considered a few moments before grudgingly obeying. "So how do I get myself declared competent with a wand?" he demanded as they walked through the school.

"I honestly don't know," Sprout admitted, embarrassed.

"You don't _know?"_ Danny yelped. "You're kidding. Isn't that just another way of saying that you can keep me here as long as you like without technically breaking the law?"

His teacher didn't answer, which Danny took as a yes. "You people are insane," he moaned. "And not in a good way, like my friend Tucker. He's good-crazy. You people are just crazy-crazy."

"Here it is," the professor announced. She rapped on a barrel (one of many that were inexplicably stacked in that particular corner) and said, "Helga Hufflepuff."

The barrel slid open, revealing a narrow tunnel. A toddler might have been able to walk through it without incident (assuming that the toddler knew how to walk), but normally-sized teenagers would have to crawl.

"Crazy-crazy," Danny muttered, but he humored his Head of House by crawling through the (fortunately short) tunnel.

The Common Room itself was quite a bit nicer than its entrance. It was roughly circular, with several windows, a warmly crackling fireplace, and two portraits on the wall. The chamber was also filled with dancing plants, which reminded Danny uncomfortably of Undergrowth.

The halfa sat next to a nervous-looking boy about his own age. "I'm Justin," the other boy gulped.

"Nice to meet you," Danny mumbled. He frowned at the second portrait. Its subject was a young man in Hufflepuff robes. The caption read REMEMBER CEDRIC DIGGORY. The halfa pointed. "What's the story behind that?"

Justin's face clouded over with sorrow. "That's Cedric," he explained. "He died last year." And with that, he launched into an explanation of why Danny had picked the worst possible time to enter wizarding Britain.

* * *

><p>"Okay," said Harry, leaning over the Marauders' Map. They had watched Danny Fenton's dot go from Sprout's office to the Common Room (which was labeled <em>terra incognita. <em>The Marauders had never managed to penetrate the badgers' lair) before stopping by the kitchen and then returning to Hufflepuff territory. "He's leaving their common room now."

"Finally," grumbled Ron. "What took him so long?"

"He probably had to actually write his letters," Hermione pointed out. She squinted at the map. "It certainly looks like he's heading toward the Owlery. We'd better get in position, just in case."

As one, the three students stood. They trotted from the Gryffindor Common Room to the Quidditch broom shed. Once they arrived, Harry took out his Firebolt and Ron grabbed one of the old school brooms.

"You can ride with me if you want," his friend volunteered.

Ron looked from his ratty old broom to the other's gleaming Firebolt. "How about I ride that broom next time?"

"Works for me," Harry agreed. Then, to Hermione, "Where is he?"

"He's definitely in the Owlery," she confirmed. She smiled slightly. "Quite considerate of him, don't you think, sending his letter off right away."

Her friends laughed. Once he was finished, Harry commented, "Ron, we should probably start flying now. We need to see the owl when it leaves the castle."

They mounted their brooms and flew, circling the Owlery. They arrived just in time, for two birds flew out of the castle as they approached.

"Two of them?" Ron asked, surprised. He frowned. "There wasn't anyone else in the Owlery, so they must both be from him." Harry nodded.

Their plan was simple: they tailed the owls for a quarter mile before Summoning the letters attached to their feet. The birds squawked as the spell dragged them towards the wizards.

"Sorry," said Harry. He grabbed the slightly larger bird and pointed his wand at the epistle it was carrying. "_Geminio._" Beside him, Ron repeated the spell.

A perfect duplicate of the letter appeared. Harry grabbed it, superbly grateful for his Seeker's reflexes. "All right," he told 'his' owl, "that's all we needed. You can leave now."

The owl shot him a baleful glare. Before departing, it gave him a nasty peck on the ear. "Ow!" the wizard yelped, grabbing his injured body part.

Ron's owl was even more belligerent. He ended up with several scratches on his face.

"Are you two all right?" Hermione asked once they reached the ground.

"Owls have sharp beaks," Harry grumbled. He waved his prize at her. "But we got the letters- there were two of them, you see. This one is to-" He read the address "-to his mum and dad. Who's yours to, Ron?"

"Someone named Jazz. Who d'you reckon she is?"

"No idea."

"Let's read Ron's letter first," Hermione suggested. "I don't want to read someone's letter to his parents unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Good plan," Harry agreed.

Ron opened the epistle.

_Dear Jazz, _

_First off, don't freak out. Physically I'm fine, and the people who kidnapped me have every reason to want me alive. _

_Yes, Jazz, kidnapped. Remember those British wizards who wanted me to go to their piggy school? Instead of taking the hint when I _ran away from home_ to avoid going with them, they went and kidnapped me. They sent a messenger owl with some kind of magical transporter thingy attached to its leg. When I touched the transporter thingy, I ended up here in Pig School. _

_Needless to say, I am not particularly happy about being kidnapped, and I intend to sue the pants off the jerks responsible. At the very least, I'm going to turn up the __heat__ around here. What can I say? When life gives you lemons, you don't make lemonade. You take the lemon juice and squirt it into the other guy's eye. Then you make your escape while he's still in pain._

_This letter is mostly just to let you know that I'm okay, despite being kidnapped and all. So don't worry. I'll probably be home soon. _

_Much love, _

_Your favorite little brother, Danny_

"He was kidnapped?" Ron exclaimed. "Blimey, no wonder he was so angry!"

His friends nodded in agreement. Then Harry said, "Should we open the other letter too?"

Hermione grimaced. "I think so. It's better to be completely certain now than sorry later."

"Right," Harry agreed.

_Dear Mom and Dad, _

_Remember how I ran away from home so I wouldn't have to go to wizard school? Well, they didn't get the hint. They kidnapped me, branded me with some kind of tracking charm thing, and are keeping me under house arrest indefinitely. I'm going to try and sue them for kidnapping me, so could you add evidence at the trial? You could use all the money we win in the lawsuit to fund your inventions. _

_They're taking me to 'Diagon Alley' tomorrow to buy my supplies, because they didn't have the decency to take my stuff with me when they kidnapped me. I'm going to sneak away and contact a lawyer then, and I'm also going to get my own owl. Hopefully, I'll be back home within a month. _

_Wish me luck, _

_Danny _

"Glad that's settled," Ron sighed. "And he's going home soon, too. That's good."

Hermione didn't seem quite so certain. She picked up the letter to Jazz, stared at it intently. Her fingers traced four words: lemon, heat, lemon juice. "I wonder…" she muttered. "Harry, Ron, am I the only one who thinks that his letter to his sister is too short for the amount of parchment that he used?"

They looked at the epistle. Sure enough, Danny's words only took up about half the surface area of the parchment. The rest was blank.

"You're right," Harry noted. "That is rather odd."

"That's what I thought," Hermione agreed, relieved that they'd confirmed her suspicions. "And I think I know why." A quick spell later, and she was proven right once more.

"Lemon juice," the witch explained smugly as she watched the rest of the letter appear. Danny's words were small and cramped and a bit messier than usual, as he wasn't used to writing with quills or ink he couldn't see. His true letter took up the remainder of the parchment's front side and all of its back. "It's a Muggle form of invisible ink that reappears when you apply heat."

"A secret letter's definitely dodgy," Ron growled.

_Jazz, Sam, and Tucker- _

_Everything I wrote about in the 'official' letter is true, but there's a whole lot more to the story. I kind of freaked out when I found myself in a strange place…. _[Here he detailed the other events of the day, including being chased by Sprout and 'mentally assaulted by a talking hat.' He did not, however, mention why he kept it from his mind- his friends already knew.]

_So yeah, the wizards kind of hate me now. But don't worry, because the feeling's mutual. _

_I'm just glad that no one knows my secret. I was worried about the ghosts here, but they're utterly clueless, mostly because they didn't even know about the GZ until a couple years ago-that's what they get for binding themselves to the Mortal Plane. Thank the Ancients for that, right? So that secret, at least, is safe, which means they're not likely to lock me up in their highest-security prison and throw away the key. _

_One last thing: a civil war may or may not be about to break out. My one roommate Justin told me that apparently, there's this guy called Voldemort (you wouldn't believe how hard it was to get that name out of him. The people here are afraid to say it. I repeat: they are afraid even to say Voldemort's name) who thinks that non-wizards are scum. He disappeared about fourteen years ago…. _[Here he related the story of how Harry had defeated the Dark Lord, the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and the controversy about whether or not Voldemort had returned.]

_Murphy's Law says that he probably really IS alive and is readying himself to murder these kidnap-happy wizards. If he is… well, I'll be stuck here in Britain until I figure out a way to remove the Tracking Charm, so I might as well do something about him while I'm here. Can you guys check out his record at the Halo da Sondiscoj or maybe ask CW where I can find the guy? Thanks- you're the best. _

_If he isn't back, I have three goals. First, get rid of the Tracking Charm. Second, go home before they figure out that the spell is gone. Third, make them REGRET kidnapping me so that when I do escape, they'll be glad to see me gone and don't try to capture me again. I need to make sure that they don't want me back. I have lots of ideas about how to manage that, but if you guys have any suggestions (which I know you do, because you're awesome like that), fire away. _

_But since I'm probably going to be here for a few days, GET DANIELLE. I don't want S and T alone any longer than necessary. You guys are tough, but I'd feel a lot better if she's there with you. Besides, D doesn't have to go to school like you do. And no, S, I am not being overprotective. I just don't want you to get hurt._

_I miss you already. _

_Danny _

"So…" Ron's voice trailed off. "He has a secret that would get him thrown into prison, he hates wizards, and he wants to find You-Know-Who? I'd say that counts as dodgy."

"Yes, Ron," Hermione said quietly. "It does."

* * *

><p>Halo da Sondiscoj is Esperanto for "Hall of Records." It's the place where the Observants keep their records of everyone who has ever died.<p>

Rue-the-day-o-meter: 5.15. It ranged from 11 (which is technically not supposed to happen, but whatever) to 2. Remember to vote for next chapter, and continue guessing about Randall. One person has figured him out already.

The letter-stealing isn't, if you ask me, OOC. They have reason to be paranoid, because a bad guy is trying to KILL them. From their perspective, mail theft is a totally legitimate course of action. Until Danny finds out, of course.

By the way, you should all thank book_phan44 for guilting me into this. Also, book_phan, you might want to stop making faces at everyone who's staring at you. Just a suggestion.

-Corona


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five: In which Danny loses all faith in human decency**

Danny spent the night searching the library for any books that would tell him how to remove the Tracking Charm. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had been one step ahead of the halfa. He'd ordered Madame Pince to confiscate anything that might help Danny escape, and that included books on Tracking Charms.

"Well," he growled, "I'll just have to go with plan B." Then, scowling darkly, he stalked back to the Hufflepuff dorms. Even ghost hybrids had to sleep, and he would have a long day tomorrow.

Now it was almost eight, and he was waiting in Sprout's office and talking with Peeves, the resident poltergeist.

Danny had originally been terrified that the ghosts of Hogwarts would know who and what he was, but they didn't. These spirits had tied themselves to the Human World; they'd had no contact with the Ghost Zone. Until recently, they hadn't even known that other ghosts existed. If the ghosts of the Ghost Zone had been less disdainful of 'those cowardly wizards who tried to cheat death and idiotically tied themselves to Earth,' Hogwarts's ghosts might have known about the Phantom's human half, but no 'true' spirit wanted anything to do with them. That meant that the haunters of Hogwarts had no idea that halfas existed, much less that the American transfer was one.

And since the ghosts didn't know about him, Danny didn't have to avoid them. Which was why, before coming to the office, he had hunted down his current companion and invited him to come conspire.

When Pomona Sprout and Argus Filch walked into the office, their eyes fell upon a horrible sight: Danny Fenton and Peeves shaking hands and smirking wickedly.

Filch went very, very pale.

Danny, beaming from ear to ear, looked up. "Professor Sprout!" he exclaimed jovially. "Just the person I wanted to see." Then, to Peeves, "Looks like I have to leave now. Let me know how it goes, okay?"

"Okey dokey!" the poltergeist replied. He whizzed away before either adult could ask what in Merlin's name was going on.

"You're my escort?" Danny asked, probing Filch with his wizzy-sense. The hybrid's eyebrows climbed. This guy didn't have magic, so what was he doing in a magic school?

"I'm Argus Filch, the caretaker," he growled. "And yes, I am your escort. What were you doing with Peeves?"

The halfa raised an eyebrow. "What, am I not allowed to make friends?"

Filch leaned forward until his face almost touched Danny's. His fetid breath filled the halfa's nostrils, making him wrinkle his nose. What had this guy been _eating_?

"Listen, brat," the caretaker growled, "I personally think that you should be hung up by your fingernails and left to rot until you learn to behave. But the punishments these days are too soft… for now, at least."

Considering that Danny was used to death threats (and threats of being skinned, and 'suffering a world of pain,' and being torn apart molecule by molecule, and stuff like that), he wasn't particularly concerned. All he did in response to Filch's vitriol was arch a brow and ask, "Okay, _why_ are you allowed near children?"

Sprout decided to intervene by Transfiguring Danny's pajamas to a bright salmon robe. The color would hopefully keep the Muggle-born from ditching the Squib. "Do you know how to use Floo Powder?"

Danny didn't, of course, but he was a fast learner and not afraid of fire. "Magic Alley," he said, naming a wizarding district in the States.

It didn't work. "We're not connected to the International Floo," Sprout explained. Her left eye was beginning to twitch. "And even if we had been, we would have disconnected before letting you anywhere near our fireplaces. It's _Diagon _Alley, Mr. Fenton."

The halfa scowled, grabbed a huge fistful of Floo powder, and tossed it into the flames. "Diagon Alley," he growled grudgingly, and stalked off.

His Head of House sagged with relief. "Merlin," she moaned, "it's going to be a long year."

* * *

><p>In the Great Hall, an argument was raging between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.<p>

"We can't afford to wait," the latter told the former. "We need to show Fenton's letter to Dumbledore _now._"

The other Gryffindor shook his head. "We need to gather more evidence first."

"Dumbledore is perfectly capable of gathering evidence on his own."

"I know that, but he _won't_ unless he thinks we're onto something. If he thinks that we're just being paranoid-"

"But he won't. There's more than enough evidence in this letter to justify what we did to acquire it. Whatever secret Fenton is keeping, it's enough to get him thrown in prison. _Prison._ He even said so! Harry, I know that you're angry with Dumbledore now, but-"

"Oh, is that it? I can't be trusted to speak sense because I'm too angry with Dumbledore?"

She groaned. "Harry, you know that's not what I meant."

Fortunately (or perhaps not) Peeves interrupted their argument by swooping into the hall. The poltergeist was grinning ear to ear. "TEN-SHUN!" he cried. All eyes turned to him. The grin widened.

As every resident of Hogwarts knew, Peeves was quite fond of singing. Every few weeks he came up with some new insulting song, which usually ended up stuck in everyone's head. Today, he had (with the help of a new friend) composed his magnum opus.

It even had a dance routine!

Peeves swayed almost gently to music that only he could hear. When he began to sing, the melody of his verses reminded certain musically-inclined Muggle-borns of the classic rock song "Holding out for a Hero." It wasn't exactly the same, but there were definite similarities.

_I'm doing this because I shou-ould,  
>Do all this for your own goo-ood.<br>I'm doing this because I ca-are,  
>I think you shouldn't be so sca-ared…. <em>

_Oh, oh, oh…! _

He held the last note with his arms spread wide for several moments before breaking into the chorus, which was absolutely nothing like "Holding out for a Hero."

_Voldemort, Voldemort, ooh Voldie Voldemort, Voldemort! _[he spun around pointing his finger in a way usually reserved for bad disco music]_  
>(bum bum bum) <em>[he shook his hips, lowering himself into a squat]_  
>Voldemort, Voldemort, ooh Voldie Voldemort, Voldemort! <em>[repeat the spinning and disco-pointing]_  
>(bum bum bum)…. <em>[repeat the hip-shaking squat]

The wizards' reaction to Peeves's new song was fairly predictable. When he first hit the chorus, they remained mute and frozen, too horrified even react. There was _no way,_ their brains said, that Peeves was singing and dancing to the most feared name in Britain. Simply no way.

Then, after the poltergeist's first round of _bum_s, they realized that he was indeed singing and dancing to the most feared name in Britain.

Shrieks broke out at the Ravenclaw table. Gryffindors went pale and flinched involuntarily. Hufflepuffs whimpered. Slytherins, hands covering their ears, stampeded from the hall. Several of the younger students collapsed, completely unconscious.

The staff's reaction was no less absurd. Flitwick's eyes were about to pop out of his head. McGonagall's mouth worked silently. Snape looked as though he'd been hit in the face with a frying pan. Sprout hid her face in her hands, shaking her head slowly. If Harry had been closer to her, he would have heard her desperate whisper of "Merlin help us all," as she deduced where Peeves had learned this song.

The most entertaining reaction was Umbridge's. First she went very gray, like days-old porridge. Then she slid out of her chair in a dead faint.

Only Dumbledore, Harry, and Luna Lovegood were left unaffected.

Peeves, grinning wickedly, went onto verse two.

_You wizards need to get less la-ame,  
>For Voldemort is just a na-ame.<br>It cannot kill or hurt or ma-aul.  
>It can't do anything at a-all…<em>

_Oh, oh, oh…!_

A couple students sent Silencing Spells at him. Peeves dodged easily before going onto the chorus.

_Voldemort, Voldemort, ooh Voldie Voldemort, Voldemort!  
>(bum bum bum)<br>Voldemort, Voldemort, ohh Voldie Voldemort, Voldemort!  
>(bum bum bum)<em>

By now, the Slytherins had been joined in their exodus by students from the other Houses. Peeves giggled and flew after them, leaving everyone who had stayed in the Great Hall to recover.

Sprout was the first professor to do so. "Albus," she squeaked.

"Yes?" the headmaster asked.

"That was Fenton's doing," she continued. "They've made some kind of alliance. I saw them shaking hands earlier today."

Dumbledore blinked at her.

"Fenton was responsible for _that_?" McGonagall's voice was half an octave higher than normal. "Does he have any idea-"

"Of course he does," Sprout moaned. "That must be why he taught Peeves." She shook her head. Her expression was that of a woman contemplating the ultimate horror. "That's why he- or he and Peeves, I don't know- made that song. It's his revenge." She shuddered. "And we'll be stuck with him all year. And as the year progresses… this is only the beginning."

Flitwick loosed a low moan of despair.

* * *

><p>The first thing Danny did when he arrived in the Leaky Cauldron was attempt to start a riot. "HELP ME!" he screamed, flailing his arms wildly. "I'VE BEEN KIDNAPPED!"<p>

The early-morning bar-goers (most of whom were there for breakfast, not hysterical American teenagers) simply stared.

"Don't just stand there, help me! I'm a defenseless teenage boy who's been taken from his home and-"

"He's joking," Filch cut in. He could already feel a headache coming on.

"No I'm not!" Danny cried. "There I was minding my own business when this guy's boss's owl shows up with a Portkey. Next thing I know, I'm on a completely different continent being _shot at _by a bunch of fruit loops. They knocked me unconscious and put me in a Body-bind, and then they put a Tracking Charm on me and everything. Call the police!"

"He's a Hogwarts student," Filch snarled.

"Someone remove the Tracking Charm," Danny begged. "I beseech you in the name of human decency-"

"Tom," Filch hissed, "I'll pay you five Galleons if you put a Silencing Spell on this whelp."

"Is five Galleons enough to make you aid and abet a kidnapping? Will it really drown out your soul's cries of horror?"

Evidently it was, for Danny found himself unable to speak.

"Merlin, Filch," the barkeeper said. "What's the story behind this one?"

"A truant," the janitor growled. "Muggle-born and American. He's been trying to leave Hogwarts ever since he arrived. He also broke Dumbledore's nose and knocked out five of the Defense professor's teeth."

Tom, realizing that he had incurred the wrath of a potential psychopath, scooted away from the belligerent halfa. The other wizards eyed Danny nervously. The teen glared.

Tom gulped. "Er, why don't you just try to get it over with as soon as possible?"

"Trust me, I'd love that," Filch grumbled. "Now come on, Fenton. I want to get home."

_So do I,_ the halfa thought.

Filch led the sulking, brooding hybrid down Diagon Alley into Gringotts. "I have a student here," he told the goblin teller. "Daniel Fenton. His parents wired him a thousand American dollars."

The teller nodded disinterestedly. "One hundred four Galleons, thirteen Sickles, and nine Knuts."

Filch reached for the money, but Danny beat him to it. The caretaker's eyes flashed. "Listen, brat-"

"It is his money, is it not?" the goblin pointed out. At the janitor's grudging nod, he added, "Then let him have it."

Danny gave his benefactor a smile of gratitude. The goblin inclined his head.

Their next stop was Madame Malkin's robe store, where Danny was poked and prodded by the overly inquisitive seamstress. As he was still under the Silencing Spell, Filch was obliged to answer for him. The caretaker's replies were curt and angry, but Madame Malkin didn't get the hint.

If Filch had had his way, their next destination would have been Flourish and Blotts. However, Danny had other ideas. Completely ignoring his guard, the halfa made a beeline for Diagon's only legal suite.

…Hadn't he mentioned something about a lawsuit? The caretaker groaned; his headache spiked.

He grabbed Danny by the arm, trying to stop him, but the hybrid had escaped much stronger opponents. He continued on into the building.

The secretary, a bored-looking witch with immense glasses, barely glanced up before spouting her lines. "Welcome to Lynch Law Office. Do you have an appointment?"

"No, he doesn't," Filch snarled.

"I've been kidnapped and would like to sue the jerks responsible," Danny proclaimed. He didn't know if the Silencing Spell had worn off on its own or if his ghostly immunity was kicking in. All he knew was that he could talk again, and he'd better take advantage of that. "Other charges include attacking me with three spells and then tagging me with a Tracking Charm. Oh, and I think they've stolen a thousand dollars from my parents' bank account, because how else would that money get here?"

The witch blinked apathetically. "But you don't have an appointment?"

"My kidnappers wouldn't let me make one," he informed her solemnly.

She frowned, squinted at him. "Are you of age?"

"No, which makes the whole kidnapping thing even worse. Not to mention the attacking and branding."

"Underage wizards aren't allowed to sue without written permission from their legal guardians. Do you have written permission?"

"Well, no, but-"

"But nothing, kid. You're underage, you don't have permission, and you don't have an appointment."

"But I've been kidnapped!" he cried. "Don't you even care about that?"

"He's lying," Filch sneered. "He's nothing but a dirty truant trying to skip school."

"Well, considering that that school _kidnaps _people-"

"If you two start fighting, I'll have to call security."

Danny perked up. "If you call security, will they get me away from my kidnappers?"

The witch shrugged. The halfa took that as permission to start yelling at Filch so loudly that security didn't need to be called. It came of its own volition.

Unfortunately for the hopeful hybrid, security was no more interested in his plight than any other wizard had been. All they cared about was getting the crazy Muggle-born teenager out onto the street as soon as possible.

"Are you going to create a scene everywhere we go?" Filch demanded.

"Probably," Danny answered flippantly. "Did you really expect me to make things easy for you?"

"You'll get so many detentions for this."

Danny snorted. "I'm already _in_ detention."

Filch's mouth worked silently. He was nearly apoplectic with frustration and rage. Danny just smiled coolly at him.

Finally the caretaker regained control of himself. "Wands next," he snarled. "Now come on."

The halfa tilted his head, considering. Then, just when he'd delayed long enough to make Filch audibly grit his teeth, he ambled forward.

Ollivanders's hadn't changed at all in the forty years since Filch had last darkened its doorstep. It was still dusty, still dim, still filled with an eerie silence no matter how loudly one spoke. In a word, it was just as creepy as its proprietor.

"Watch the whelp," Filch ordered. Ollivanders arched an eyebrow. "He's a truant," the Squib explained. "Keeps trying to _illegally_ escape. Let him leave the shop without me, and you'll be aiding and abetting a runaway."

"Let me leave the shop with him, and you'll be aiding and abetting a kidnapping," Danny sneered. "Ah, choices, choices."

The janitor ignored his snarky comments. "I'm getting your textbooks. You stay." He didn't bother trying to take Danny's money. He knew it would just result in another fight, one he couldn't win. He'd just ask Dumbledore to pay him back later. With that in mind, Filch stomped out of the shop, leaving the others behind.

"These guys put a Tracking Charm on me," Danny explained the second Filch was out of earshot. "Can you remove it? Please? I'll pay you, if that's what you want. Plus you'll be doing a great service to human decency."

The wand maker shook his head.

Danny scowled. For a moment, he honestly considered rampaging through the shop, snapping all the precious wands, but he suppressed the urge. That was something Dan would do, and though Danny certainly wouldn't be nice to the wizards (which was only to be expected- they _had_ kidnapped him), he would never stoop to that level.

"Why not?" he ground out.

"I don't know whose story to believe," was the simple response.

"So you're just going to sit on a fence doing nothing?" Danny snorted. "Good for you. You've chosen the one option where you lose no matter who wins."

Ollivanders frowned, troubled, before shaking it off. "Very well, Mr. … Fenton, he called you?" The halfa nodded. "Perhaps once you've found your wand, you can learn the Tracking Charm yourself."

"Not likely," he grumbled. "They've removed all the books that mention it from the library, and Filch is apparently buying my textbooks. Like I said, shameless kidnapping. Besides, even if I could learn it, it'd still be faster if you just took it off me." He paused, frowned. "Can I rephrase that? Because that came out wrong."

The wand maker chuckled. "Phoenix feather and chestnut, twelve and a half inches, thicker than I normally make…."

When Filch returned forty-five minutes later, it was to find that Ollivanders's store had been almost completely destroyed. Fenton, the obvious source of the destruction, looked half-embarrassed, half-appalled. Ollivanders himself looked all ecstatic.

"No match!" he cried gleefully. "We went through every wand in my shop, and he had no match!"

"Yippee for me," Danny mumbled. Flames between, this was the last thing he needed. Bad enough that he hadn't had magic until mere months ago (thank you, slowly developing ghost powers); now his magic was weird enough that none of Ollivanders's wands could channel it? At this rate, he'd be found out within the week.

"I'll need to custom-make one," the wand maker continued, rubbing his hands together. "In fact, I'll make three. No, four! Yes, four beautiful wands, each a masterpiece, each worthy of Merlin himself!" His eyes glazed over with bliss. "Come back Saturday, Mr. Fenton, and we will find you your wand." He laughed. "Never, in all my years- and I've had a fair few years, young man!- have I had the pleasure of creating a custom-built wand. Thank you, Mr. Fenton, thank you!" He grabbed Danny's hand, pumped it up and down enthusiastically.

"You're welcome?"

Filch was decidedly less pleased. "He needs a wand _now,_" the Squib pointed out. "He's a Hogwarts student. He needs one for his schoolwork."

Ollivanders snorted, grabbed one of the many discarded wands on the floor. "Elder, heartstring of a Hebridean Black, eleven and three-quarter inches. It was your closest match, Mr. Fenton, though obviously not perfect. Exceedingly powerful, good for Transfiguration and Defense. But don't fear the wand wood- one can prosper even with a wand of elder."

"Okay, then." Danny, being Muggle-born, had no idea what the wand maker was talking about. "How much?"

Ollivanders shook his head. His smiled had returned full-force. "No, no, this is free. You have done me a great favor, Mr. Fenton, a great test of my skills. I will benefit even without payment."

"Oh." Danny smiled slightly. He was strongly reminded of certain craftsmen in the Far Frozen, who used their ice powers for art instead of war. They, too, reveled in challenges. "See you Saturday, then, I guess." _Unless I've escaped by then, of course. _

The wand maker beamed. "Of course, Mr. Fenton. I am looking forward to it. Now fare thee well."

* * *

><p>The chorus for Peeves's song is from "Harry Potter Puppet Pals: The Mysterious Ticking Noise" over on YouTube. Lynch Law Office is a real place. It's actually only two or three miles from where I'm sitting right now.<p>

Remember the little 'jail' thing from Danny's letter home? The Golden Trio has fixated on that like a dog with a bone. They figure, if someone has a secret that merits jail time, he's probably not to be trusted. And, in a better world, they'd be right. Sadly, they are in wizarding Britain...

Last chapter got a 4.14 on the Rue-the-day-o-meter. 26 people entered, and guesses ranged from 1 to 10.

-Corona


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: In which Danny plants the seeds of revolution**

"I'm getting an owl so my parents and I can coordinate the information for our lawsuit."

Filch's eye twitched. His eye had been doing that quite a bit that day. "What lawsuit?" he hissed. "You just got yourself kicked out of the only wizarding law firm in Britain!"

"In Britain," Danny acknowledged, "but in case you've forgotten, I'm American. There's more than one wizarding law firm in the Land of the Free. And before you talk about _why_ I was kicked out, my parents aren't underage. They might act like it, but they're not. And once they found out that you people kidnapped me and hexed me, they will sue."

"You're not getting an owl," Filch growled.

Danny ignored him. The halfa continued walking toward Eeylop's Owl Emporium.

"Didn't you hear me, you little brat?" the janitor demanded. "You're not getting-"

"Hi," Danny said to the salesgirl. "Can you remove the Tracking Charm that my kidnappers put on me?"

She stared at him.

"Please?"

"Ignore him," Filch snarled. "He's nothing but a filthy truant." He shuddered with rage. "Deserves thumbscrews, this one does."

"See? My kidnapper wants to put me in thumbscrews. Do you really want to let an innocent end up in thumbscrews?"

"You're not an innocent!" the Squib raged. "You're a truant, a school-skipper. If I had my say, we'd throw you in Azkaban and be done with it!" He glared at the bemused, befuddled salesgirl. "Cast any spell on him and I'll hex you into next year."

The young Muggle-born, herself a graduate of Hogwarts who was well-acquainted with Filch's temper but not his status as a Squib, gulped. "Y-yes, sir. Um, were you going to get an owl, or were you just here for… um… services not sold by our company? Because if you're not here for an owl, you're loitering."

Danny scowled. "I'm here for an owl. I thought I'd ask if you would help me escape the kidnappers who bound, gagged, and branded me like a cow at a rodeo, but of course you didn't."

The halfa took his time looking through the owls. Part of this was to spite Filch, who stood seething by the door. Part of it was because he hoped someone else would come in and help him. Mostly, though, it was because he couldn't find the perfect bird. Oh, sure, a lot of them were pretty or smart-looking (at least, as smart as birds could be), but they all lacked an essential something. Toughness, maybe. He didn't know.

Eventually, he found exactly what he was looking for. She was dark gray, almost black but paler on her face and underbelly, with fierce eyes and a slender sharp beak. Like the other birds, she was caged. Unlike the others, though, she didn't seem that thrilled about being caged. Her posture was cold, imperious even, and she viewed the other hostages with contempt.

No, Danny didn't know how he got all that from the body language of a bird.

"Hey, girl," he said quietly. "You don't like being caged either, do you?" He stuck a finger into the cage.

"She bites," the salesperson informed him belatedly. But instead of biting, the owl snuggled into Danny's hand.

"How much?"

Danny let her out of her cage immediately after handing over the money, of course. "You can go free, if you want." It would be hypocritical to keep her prisoner one second longer than he had to. The owl made a soft sound of appreciation and fluttered onto his shoulder.

"Oh, so you want to stay with me? Cool. Um, what exactly are you?"

"She's a greater sooty owl," the salesgirl explained. "Native to Australia and New Guinea. They're powerful predators, capable of hunting some very large animals. Their call sounds something like a bomb falling from the sky."

Filch moaned.

"Aren't you going to name her?" the shopkeeper continued.

Danny thought. "How does Malcedema sound, girl? It's Esperanto for 'resistant' or 'resisting.'" He smiled wickedly in Filch's direction.

Malcedema whistled her approval.

* * *

><p>After Peeves's display at breakfast, Ron, who had been neutral, sided with Hermione. "We need to tell Dumbledore as soon as we can," he proclaimed. "If Sprout's right and this <em>is<em> only the beginning- well, I don't want to see what else he can come up with."

Harry glared, exasperated. "Come on, Ron. I say Voldemort's name- quit flinching, you two- all the time. It's really not that scary."

"Easy for you to say," the redhead grumbled, "but-"

"We're getting off-topic," Hermione interrupted. "Harry, why don't we tell Professor Sprout about the letter during Herbology today? She's Fenton's Head of House, and even if you didn't want to speak with Dumbledore, she could for us."

Harry considered. "That's a good idea. D'you have the letter?"

Not surprisingly, the witch nodded. She had obviously intended to wear Harry down during breakfast until he agreed to speak with Dumbledore.

But when they arrived in Greenhouse Five, it was only to find that Fenton wasn't there. Hermione's eyes bulged in horror. "Is he _skipping_?" she gasped.

"You sound more concerned about him skipping than you are about the secret that might get him into jail," Ron grumbled.

"Of course he's not skipping," Hermione muttered, ignoring Ron. "Class hasn't started yet- he's just later than we are, that's all." She nodded firmly.

It was one thing to be a definite criminal who knew he deserved jail time and potential future follower of Lord Voldemort. It was quite another to be a bad student. One was almost understandable; the other, simply inexcusable.

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes.

Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown had already arrived. They were speaking with a quartet of Hufflepuffs. Harry nudged his friends, glanced significantly at the speakers. He, Hermione, and Ron sidled over.

"He was _kidnapped?_" Lavender gasped. She put a hand in front of her mouth. "That's awful! Why would they do that?"

"He _does_ have to learn to control his magic," Ernie pointed out. "Otherwise the Muggles might see him using it. We'd be exposed."

"Did you tell him that, though?" Neville asked.

"Yeah," Justin replied. "He actually had a pretty good defense- he's from Amity Park, you see, that mad place in the States that's infested with those weird solid ghosts. He said that everyone would just blame his magic on ghosts, and that he didn't really use a lot of magic. Apparently he'd used so little magical power that no one noticed he was a wizard until just a few months ago. By then, of course, he was already sixteen- almost of age."

"He's from Amity Park?" Hermione butted in. Her eyes were very wide. "You know, the town's ghost hunters are named Jack and Maddie Fenton. Do you suppose they're related?"

"I asked," Ernie answered. "Danny just groaned and said, 'Oh, joy. My parents are _internationally_ renowned lunatics.' He didn't seem to like them much."

Hermione looked ready to protest, but Professor Sprout cut her off by entering the greenhouse. "All right, students," the teacher called, "come on over. I have a quick announcement to make before class begins."

The students obediently crowded round.

"You all know," she said, "that we have a new fifth year. You have also probably noticed that he isn't here. No, Miss Granger, he isn't skipping class- Mr. Fenton won't be taking Herbology." In a quieter voice that no one was supposed to hear but which everyone heard anyways, she muttered, "And thank Merlin for that."

Sprout resumed her speech. "Mr. Fenton's magic was not discovered until just a few months ago. He… faced a bit of a predicament then. The law said that all underage wizards must receive magical education either until they were proven competent with a wand or until they had passed three O.W.L.s. Mr. Fenton spent his summer studying to take four exams, which he passed with flying colors. One of those tests was in Herbology, so he will not be joining us for this class."

Hermione raised a hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"If he passed _four_ O.W.L.s and the law only requires him to take three, why is he here? You mentioned that he didn't want to attend Hogwarts, so why did he come here? The law certainly doesn't require it."

Sprout had the grace to look embarrassed. "All of his O.W.L.s were in non-wanded subjects: Potions, Herbology, History of Magic, and Astronomy. Late this August, his state's magical senator passed a law saying that students must learn how to control their magical core before they would be let go. Mr. Fenton believes that… er… that the law was passed simply to spite him."

Harry, who knew how the law could be twisted to serve the needs of politicians, nodded. He almost sympathized with the boy. If Danny hadn't possessed some kind of secret that could get him thrown in prison and a desire to find Voldemort, Harry might have liked him.

"But yes," mumbled the flustered Sprout, "he's exempt from this class. You, however, are not. We'll be pruning Chinese Chomping Cabbages today, so be careful. They bite."

"Thank Merlin he can't use a wand," Ron sighed. The redhead grinned. Then he frowned. "But how's he going to find You-Know-Who without a wand?"

"Research, Ron," Hermione growled. "Everyone can research, with or without wands."

Ron rolled his eyes.

Hermione huffed. "Come on," she ordered. "Let's tell Professor Sprout what we learned." She darted forward. "Professor, we have something to tell you. It's about the new student, Daniel Fenton."

The Herbology professor moaned. "Let me guess," she hazarded, "he's done something to you in his campaign to get banished from the wizarding world. He sent Peeves after you. He taught the armor in the halls to sing that You-Know-Who song. Whatever he's done, you want him out of the castle at once."

"Er, no," Hermione replied, a bit nonplussed. "I mean yes." She flushed. "That is, we _do _want him out of the castle, but not because of this morning. And he certainly hasn't taught the armor to sing."

"Though that's a great idea," interrupted a voice none of them wanted to hear. Peeves, Fenton's accomplice (at least according to Sprout), flashed into visibility. The little poltergeist was floating cross-legged, grinning manically. "Teach the armor how to sing, yes. We could make a choir. Eight-part harmony for every song, with Danny our conductor!" He seemed quite enamored with the idea.

"Go away, Peeves," Sprout ordered.

The poltergeist blew her a raspberry. "Where's the fun in that, eh? Besides, I'm here for a reason." He uncrossed his legs, stood, and began to sway. "I came up with another verse for the Voldemort Song."

The other students, who had been listening to the resident poltergeist instead of pruning cabbages, blanched. "Not again," moaned Neville.

"_It cannot kill or hurt or ma-aim,  
>For Voldemort is just a na-ame…."<em>

The students, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff alike, stampeded.

Needless to say, Herbology was cancelled for the day.

* * *

><p>They tried, they really did, but they couldn't warn any of the teachers about Fenton.<p>

Dumbledore had vanished off to who-knows-where, doing who-knows-what for the Order of the Phoenix. Sprout told them in no uncertain terms that she didn't want to hear a thing about Fenton, and if they persisted in bothering her about him she would simply walk away. McGonagall wasn't exactly approachable, and though she was the Deputy Headmistress they weren't sure how much authority she would have to get Fenton taken to the Ministry for trial. Snape, though he was a member of the Order, did not exactly invite confidence. Besides, Harry pointed out, the greasy git's also a Death Eater. Telling him might make it easier for Fenton to meet Voldemort.

That conversation had degenerated into an argument between Harry and Hermione about whether or not Snape was really on their side. They were still discussing that during dinner when Ron noticed that Fenton had returned.

"Sh!" he instructed. "D'you want him to hear you?"

"Snape's not here, Ron," Hermione pointed out.

"Not Snape, Fenton!"

The trio turned to stare.

Fenton wore new black robes with the Hufflepuff crest. A dark gray owl perched on his shoulders. It noticed that the three Gryffindors were staring and glared balefully at them.

"Even his owl is scary," Ron muttered. "Harry, I think that thing wants to kill me."

"What's he doing?" Hermione wondered. She stretched up on her chair. "It looks like he's writing something. Another letter, perhaps?"

"Maybe something about his secret," Ron mused darkly. "The one that could get him locked up in prison."

"Maybe it's his job application." Harry's suggestion was even darker than Ron's.

In reality, Danny's new project had nothing to do with his secret or joining Voldemort. Instead, he was trying to plot out his lawsuit. A few minutes into it, he decided that law was for lawyers and began to pester his fellow Hufflepuffs about Tracking Charms.

It turned out that no one- not _one single stinking Hufflepuff-_ knew how to remove the blasted thing. A couple sixth years suggested _Finite incantatem,_ but that didn't work. Danny could still sense the magic branding him.

He settled back into his chair and sulked.

A couple seats away, a sweet-faced first year girl was telling her older brother about how Snape had treated her in Potions that day. Danny wasn't trying to listen in, but he couldn't help himself.

As the girl talked, the halfa grew more and more appalled. A schoolteacher was allowed to call an eleven-year-old student 'a morbidly obese waste of space'? He didn't get in trouble when his students were reduced to tears? He was allowed to take points for breathing too loudly?

Danny did not approve.

"Tell Dumbledore," her brother advised.

"No!" his sister yelped. She was trembling. "Dumbledore won't listen- you told me yourself how many people have complained against Snape. And what if he tries to hurt Dr. Seuss?"

"He's not going to hurt your cat," the brother said. Danny noticed that the other Hufflepuff hadn't denied that many, many people had complained about Snape.

"I don't believe you," the girl sniffled. "Haven't you heard what he did to Neville Longbottom's toad?"

The boy blanched, shuddered.

Danny decided to make his presence known. "He might know about the toad, but I don't. Would you mind telling me?"

She hesitated but eventually launched into the tale. Two years ago, the third-years had been learning Shrinking Solutions. Neville Longbottom hadn't been doing so well, so Snape had told the boy that at the end of class, he would feed a few drops of potion to Neville's pet toad. By the time Snape had uttered his threat, the potion had almost certainly been poisonous. Only the intervention of someone named Hermione Granger had saved Trevor the toad's life, and of course Snape had taken points from her for helping Neville.

"That can't be legal," Danny squeaked, eyes wide with horror. Sure, it was a toad, but it was still someone's _pet._ What kind of teacher threatened to poison someone's pet and then punished the girl who had saved that pet's life?

Danny didn't even care that he didn't have to take Potions. This little eleven-year-old did, and she was plainly terrified of the teacher. In the Muggle world, or any wizarding school that was _not_ founded on madness and built with the bricks of horror, someone like Snape would have been fired long before the Trevor incident. Heck, someone like Snape probably would have gotten the entire school shut down.

Ding ding ding.

A metaphorical light bulb went off above Danny's head. A slow, methodical smile made its way across his face.

At the Gryffindor table, Ron blanched. "Sweet Merlin, look at his expression!"

"Danny?" asked the nervous first year, whose name was Susie. "Why are you smiling like that?"

The halfa's smirk faded into an expression of determination. "Is there some kind of protocol for calling a House meeting, one that Sprout _won't _attend?"

"Er, no," replied her brother Jason. He too was somewhat creeped out by Danny's intensity. "Why?"

"Because I need to talk with all the Hufflepuffs without a teacher peering over our shoulders. How's tonight at seven-thirty work?"

"Okay," Susie squeaked.

"Then spread the word," the older student advised. He got up, began moving among the Hufflepuffs. "Tonight, the Common Room, seven-thirty," he told them. "And whatever you do, don't tell a teacher."

If Danny had been Sorted into any other House, the students would never have listened to him. But Hufflepuff was the House of nice people, people who saw the best in others. They understood that Danny had no reason to trust Sprout- tales of his kidnapping had spread far and wide. So at seven-thirty, the entirety of Hufflepuff House gathered in their Common Room in the hope that by doing so, they could show him that not all wizards were bad.

Danny stood on a low-lying table in the center of the room. His gaze was focused, intense. If not for the self-control he'd gained in the past two years, his eyes would be burning green. He'd spent the last hour learning about Hogwarts's professors and Hogwarts itself, and he was _not_ pleased.

Sure, the things he'd learned definitely merited a lawsuit- several lawsuits, in fact. Lawsuits were good, because then Dumbledore would expel him and he could go home. But the fact that they'd happened at all was enough to enrage him.

At seven-thirty on the dot, he demanded, "How many of you have been abused, belittled, or insulted by Severus Snape?"

Every hand in the room went up, even those belonging to the first years.

"How many of you have fallen asleep in Binns's class?"

No one's hand went down.

"How many of you have been degraded by Filch when he throws you into a detention you didn't deserve?"

A couple first years dropped their arms, but the older students could not.

Danny began to pace. The table was only a few steps across, but he didn't care. Its shortness just made him look more like a caged animal. "How many of you knew that Umbridge uses illegal torture devices in her detentions?"

Several hands went down as people glanced around. They fixated on the hands that were still in the air. Many of those hands were bandaged.

"They're called Blood Quills," Danny hissed. "They're torture devices that cut into your hand whenever you write with them. And like most torture devices, they're illegal." He smiled darkly. "And just think- they're only the tip of the great Hogwarts iceberg."

He paused, glared out into the silent crowd. "How many of you were here four years ago when there was a ravenous three-headed dog-monster in the school for the entire year with no leash, nothing to stop it from rampaging except a single badly enchanted door?"

Fifth years and up raised their hands.

"How many of you were here three years ago when a sixty-foot poisonous snake with a literal death glare wandered through the plumbing and there was no police investigation, no mention of the attacks in the newspapers, and no one did anything to help except throw an innocent man into jail without a trial?"

Fourth years put their hands in the air. By this time, everyone was beginning to look disturbed, afraid, nervous. They didn't like the implications of what Danny was saying.

"How many of you were here two years ago when soul-sucking demons got into a sports game? How many of you did they hurt? How many of you were more afraid of the guards than of what they were guarding against?"

Everyone above third year had his hand in the air.

"How many of you were here last year when four fire-breathing mother dragons were provoked in front of an audience of thousands? How many of you were taught by a man who disguised himself for months on end and was only revealed as an imposter after Cedric Diggory's death in a school-sanctioned tournament?"

The first years shifted uncomfortably. They didn't like being the only people who couldn't raise their hands.

"So _how_ many times have students here been placed in life-threatening situations? How many ravenous, potentially child-eating creatures have you been exposed to? How many abusive, insane, or just plain incompetent teachers have worked here?"

A prefect decided to put his foot down. "How do we know you're not just rallying us against a school you hate?"

"I am," Danny admitted bluntly. "But does my motivation make anything I said less true?"

No answer from the prefect.

"These past four years, students have faced all kinds of dangers. Sometimes, those dangers were fatal." He nodded towards Cedric's portrait.

"I volunteered," the dead seventh year reminded him, but his voice lacked conviction. He, too, was more than a bit disturbed. "At least for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Not for the other stuff."

"What do you think is going to happen this year?" Danny asked quietly. "Giant man-eating spiders in the forest? Dementors invited back? Snape killing someone's toad? Probably all three."

"But what can we do?" Susie whispered.

Danny's answer was the last thing she expected: "Count."

"Huh?" the Hufflepuffs muttered.

"Count," Danny repeated. "There are what, a hundred of us?"

"One hundred and three," Helga's portrait told him. "Ours is the largest House in Hogwarts."

"Thanks, ma'am." Danny graced her with a dazzling smile. "So there are one hundred and three of us, and less than twenty professors."

"You want us to fight them?" someone squawked.

"Of course not," Danny grumbled.

"Then what do you want us to do?" a fourth year asked. "Because you're right. I don't want to put up with this anymore. I came here to learn magic, not to risk my life."

"That _is_ the purpose of Hogwarts," Helga agreed. She drew herself up to her full height. "Whatever you're planning, young man, I give you my permission to do it. All of you have my permission." She smiled grimly.

Danny smiled back. "I propose that we _force_ this school to shape up or ship out. No more Snapes, Binnses, Umbridges-"

"No more Filch!" someone cried.

"Or dragons!"

"Or dementors!"

"Or exploding cauldrons- there's a new type in America that puts up a Shield Charm whenever something explodes. I want those!"

"We certainly pay enough to afford them," another student agreed.

"No more Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

"No more Snape!" Several people voiced that particular cry.

And so began the Citizens United for Reform in Education, the C.U.R.E. for wizarding Britain.

* * *

><p>Last chapter: 6.22 on the Rue-the-day-o-meter.<p>

Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious, Overlord of Hufflepuff, shows up next chapter, so this is your last chance to guess who and what he is.

Also, the toad thing totally happened in the third book. Chapter 7, to be exact. Let me repeat that: a professor. Tried to kill. His student's pet. And punished. The girl. Who saved that pet's life.

Until next time!

-Corona


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: In which Sir Randall (among others) arrives at Hogwarts**

Mere hours after Danny and the newly-minted C.U.R.E. (they were originally going to call it S.U.R.E., with the S standing for "Students," but then someone had suggested getting their parents involved and the name had changed) finished plotting, Danni Fenton-Phantom arrived in Amity Park. The half-ghost girl rolled up the Infi-map, stuffed it into her bulging backpack, and swooped down to the roof of Casper High.

Two full humans stood there. One was a pale, dark-haired girl in a black t-shirt and purple cargo pants. The other was a young, tall black man with a bright red beret on his head.

"Hi Sam, Tucker," Danni said, shifting into visibility.

"Hey, Danni." Sam's greeting was a bit preemptory, but the halfa didn't take offense. She knew exactly how worried the other girl was about Danny.

"Thanks for taking us," Tucker said.

She smiled. "Don't mention it." Then she shifted into business mode. "Okay, according to Jazz, Jack and Maddie gave their permission for the kidnapping at about six yesterday morning. That means that Danny's been at that Hogwarts place since seven or so. That's more than enough time for him to have escaped, except that he hasn't. So he's obviously incapable of escaping by himself, which is bad."

The fullings nodded. Anything that could keep Danny Phantom captive was not something they wanted to underestimate.

"Ecto-weaponry?" Danni asked.

Tucker patted his own backpack. "Check."

"Regular weaponry?"

"Check again."

"Emergency medical supplies?"

"Check," Sam growled. "And if he needs them, the wizards will pay."

"Okay then." Danni nodded.

"You forgot to ask about the distraction," Tucker informed her. He patted the gray and green thermos at his hip.

Danni rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the distraction?"

"A ghost I who I have named Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious." Tucker grinned. "And trust me, he lives up to that name."

Danni considered asking but thought better of it. "Gotcha. Can we leave now?" She rummaged through her backpack for the Infi-map. Sam and Tucker took hold of her shoulders. "Okay, then. On the count of three. One, two, three- _Hogwarts!_"

None of the teenagers had ever taken Apparated, but if they had, they would have realized that the sensation was remarkably similar to that of being dragged along by the Infi-map. Or perhaps the feeling was more like Floo travel, sickening and dizzying. Actually, it was like all magical transportation except broomsticks- disorienting and rather sickening. Danni had traveled with the map often enough that she was used to the stomach-churning sensation, but Sam and Tucker needed several seconds to recover.

"Okay," the Goth finally said. "I think I'm ready. What about you, Tuck?"

"Give me a second," the techno-geek panted. He was leaning against the inside of the castle compound's outer wall while trying to regain his composure. "Okay, now I'm ready." He still didn't feel entirely healthy (neither did Sam. The castle was covered in Muggle-repelling charms that did not appreciate their presence), but he was well enough to help Danny. "Time to see if Fenton tech works in wizard school."

The trio knew full well that regular technology didn't work at Hogwarts (that was one of the reasons Tucker was so desperate to rescue his friend. Magic was cool and all, but it wasn't worth losing internet access for months on end). However, their devices ran off ecto-energy, not electricity or battery power. Since ecto-energy was a supernatural power source, it should in theory work within Hogwarts's walls.

"Find Danny," Tucker ordered quietly, and released the Boo-merang.

For a moment, the device simply floated in midair. Then, spinning slowly, it flew towards the castle proper. Grinning widely, the trio (invisible thanks to Danni's powers) followed.

Due to the time difference, the residents of Hogwarts were sleeping. It was about midnight for them, but for the intruders, it was the middle of the afternoon. They were wide awake. Even if they did encounter someone, that person would be tired. They'd have the advantage.

They followed the Boo-merang through the halls of Hogwarts, supremely grateful that the enchanted paintings were fast asleep. Soon the tracking device crashed into a barrel.

"Okay, then," Danni muttered. "There are some random barrels taking up space in a hallway. That's not fishy at all." She phased herself, her friends, and the Boo-merang through.

Tucker took one look at the dancing plants and gulped. "Sam, I think that Undergrowth lives here."

"Quiet," the Goth ordered. She was gazing intently at the sleeping, _moving_ portraits. It would probably be best to not wake them up.

They followed the tracker to the fifth-year boys' dorm. It was snug and cozy, with circular nightstands beside every plush bed. The carpet was thick and shaggy. All in all, it looked like a very comfortable room.

Years of hunting ghosts had made Danny a very light sleeper. He jerked up, staring in shock at the teal mist of his breath. Had it been blue, he would have thought that a 'true' ghost had come. Had it been washed-out silver-blue, he would have assumed that the Fat Friar had snuck in to check on his charges. But since it was teal….

"Danni?" he whispered. White light flashed, and Danny Phantom floated out of bed.

"Hey," his clone replied, shifting to visibility. At her side, Sam and Tucker waved.

Danny's grin nearly split his face. Not even the Boo-merang banging against his head could dampen his glee.

The newly minted Hufflepuff flew up, leading his rescuers through the ceiling and onto the castle roof. The Boo-merang, unable to follow, batted uselessly against the ceiling.

The second they arrived on the roof, the four grabbed each other in a huge group hug. "How did you guys get here so fast?" Danny laughed, swinging them around. "I didn't think my letter would get to Amity Park until tomorrow at the earliest."

"You sent a letter?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Danny tilted his head. "Wait. If you didn't get the letter, how did you know I was here instead of kidnapped by some ghost? Did you just follow the Boo-merang across the Atlantic Ocean? Because that would have sucked."

The rescuers exchanged nervous glances. "Actually," Sam confessed, "Jazz told us what happened."

The halfa frowned. "How did she know?"

No one wanted to answer, but they knew someone would have to eventually. Tucker took the plunge. "Jazz says that Jack and Maddie called her yesterday and told her that they'd given their parental permission to that Dumbledore guy to take you to Hogwarts with a Portkey."

Danny froze. Then, softly, "Oh. They must… really want me to learn to hunt ghosts with magic, then."

"Yeah." Tucker smiled weakly.

The last thing Danny needed was another issue with his parents. They had more than enough already- the lies, the hunting, the injuries (on Danny's body. He had never and would never hurt a hair on his parents' heads), the disappointment, the threats…. There had been a reason that Danny enjoyed living on his own so much. Two reasons, actually.

"But enough about that," Danni interjected. "Your stuff is still back in the house. It'll be easy to move back in. As long as you don't accept another owl, you'll be fine."

Danny's eyes lit up. "So you guys have a way to get rid of this Tracking Charm?"

Blank stares were his only reply.

"…you guys didn't know about the Tracking Charm."

"Nope."

"Maybe someone back in America will remove it for you," Danni suggested.

The older halfa shrugged, remembering his disastrous attempts to acquire help in Diagon Alley. "Maybe. It's worth a shot, I guess." He reached out, took hold of the Infi-map. "On three. One, two, three- Amity Park!"

The map sprang into action, reminding Danny uncomfortably of the Portkey which had brought him to Britain in the first place. _Oh, well_, he told himself. _Soon I'll be home, and someone can take this dang Tracking Charm off-_

That was when he slammed into an invisible barrier.

The halfa ricocheted back, nearly tumbling from the air. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots from his vision.

Danni, Sam, and Tucker hadn't been affected by the force which had stopped him. Danny could see them flying back to meet with him. He had the nasty feeling that he knew exactly why the barrier hadn't stopped them from leaving.

It seemed that the spell Dumbledore had cast on him was a bit more than your garden-variety Tracking Charm.

"Why'd you let go?" Danni demanded.

"I didn't," her sort-of brother replied. He stretched out a tentative hand. The second it reached a certain point in the air, a blue light flared before it. Danny hissed softly. "I'm intangible, but it won't let me through." He prodded gingerly at the invisible line of demarcation. Sure enough, whenever he tried to get past a certain point, the blue light would appear and force him back.

"Maybe if I made you intangible?" Danni suggested. She didn't think it would work, but there wasn't much harm in trying.

"Sure," Danny agreed.

But of course, that attempt failed too.

"Okay, now I'm really starting to get annoyed." He was, too. To get so close to freedom, only to be stopped by some wizard's spell…! "Out of the way, guys."

They recognized that tone of voice. Danni flew Sam and Tucker out of the line of fire.

Danny pressed his hand against the barrier. Ectoplasmic energy flared. He fired. The blast went straight through the shield. The blast's maker scowled. He fired again. This attack was stronger, brighter, whiter, but the shield didn't affect it. It passed through the barrier like a ghost would pass through walls.

"Cover your ears," Danny growled.

Danni didn't bother pointing out that she couldn't do so, not without dropping Sam and Tucker. She just grimaced and braced herself.

Not even the Ghostly Wail worked. The barrier wasn't rooted in geography; it was anchored in Danny's flesh. Dumbledore had leashed him: he could get so many miles from Hogwarts, but when he reached the end of the leash, it would tug at his neck, and he couldn't get any farther.

But Danny and his friends didn't understand how the Tracking-Charm-that-was-not-entirely-a-Tracking-Charm worked. They thought that someone had erected a shield which functioned exclusively to keep Danny in.

Ice, fire, ice and fire and ectoplasm and the wail combined- nothing worked. Danny hunted for a weak spot in the barrier, for anything that would let him through, for a weakness in the spell itself, but he couldn't find anything. Nothing at all.

His friend, girlfriend, and sort-of sister watched in helpless frustration as he struggled against the spell. None of them knew enough about wizardry to help.

It seemed like hours passed. In reality, it was really only ten or so minutes later when Tucker made his suggestion. "Maybe ask it to take us to the nearest portal?"

"Worth a shot," Danni muttered.

Unfortunately, the nearest portal was too far away for Danny to reach. He got within less than a hundred feet of it before the invisible leash dragged him back. "No!" he cried, gazing longingly at the portal. So close and yet so far…. "This isn't fair," he whined, sounding like a child but past the point of caring.

But he was the Phantom. Giving up simply wasn't in his nature. The halfa squared his shoulders and ordered the Infi-map to bring him to Diagon Alley.

Once again, his attempt failed.

"I hate wizards," Danny moaned. "I hate them I hate them I _hate_ them…."

Sam placed a comforting hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. "Tucker and I can research what kind of spell this is and how to remove it."

"Jazz and I will help too," Danni promised.

"And if the worst happens," Tucker sighed, "we'll all keep Amity Park safe until your seventeenth birthday." What he didn't say was that at the moment, the worst seemed all too likely.

Danni hesitated. "Since I'll be in Amity until you come back, you should keep the Infi-map. Maybe it can help you find a portal that you _can_ get into."

Danny shook his head. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but if I take the Infi-map, you guys can't get home."

"Not if I send a duplicate back to Scotland with the map and the stuff you left behind in your place." She grinned. "You probably want more clothes than your oh-so-manly pajamas."

"They got me new ones," Danny grumbled. "Isn't that one of the defining characteristics of a really dangerous cult, though- making members give up all their old possessions before dragging them off to the middle of nowhere?"

"…You know, I think that it is."

"You have my permission to decontaminate me by any means necessary if I come out in a few months praising Merlin."

Danni's lips quirked. "Somehow, I don't think that'll be necessary."

"It had better not be," her ersatz brother muttered. "But seriously, guys, if it _is…._"

"Then we'll hook you up to that one helmet thingy you and Sam used to free me of Ember's mind control," Tucker promised.

"I thought those were all recalled due to some kind of manufacturing error?"

"Details, details."

Danny laughed, just as Tucker had intended.

"We have some stuff for you already," Sam announced. "It's in the backpacks. You can just phase them off us."

"Don't forget this," Tucker ordered, patting the thermos.

"Thanks, guys, but I don't think I need the thermos here. The ghosts are pretty friendly."

"Oh, I don't care about the thermos. I care about the ghost inside of it: Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious!"

Danny stared. "You brought one of Dora's knights?"

"Well, no. But I can see why you'd think that. Just open the thermos when you get back to school, okay? And trust me- it'll be good."

Danny hesitated. How could he phrase this without offending Tucker? "Um, can this ghost talk?"

Tucker understood. "He's totally mute. Well, except for this weird hrawrhh sound."

"That was a frighteningly good impression," Sam muttered.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "What exactly is Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious?"

Tucker smirked. "Suffice to say that Randall don't care. Randall don't give a… crap."

Danny's smile nearly split his face. "You brought us a mascot!"

"Why yes, yes I did. By the way, who's 'we'?"

Danny waved a negligent hand. "I decided to start a revolt, and pretty much everyone in Hufflepuff House- they divide the people here into four Houses for scheduling stuff. Personally I think it's a stupid idea, because the Houses all hate each other and students are 'Sorted' by a mind-raping hat, but that's wizards for you- anyways, pretty much everyone in Hufflepuff joined in. And even better, Hufflepuff's mascot is a badger, so they'll love Sir Randall."

"You're a badger now?" asked Sam.

Danny grimaced. "We're not telling Vlad about this. And if he finds out on his own, we can just introduce him to Sir Randall here. I'm sure he'll love that- Randall, that is. Not Vlad."

"I'd pay good money to see that," Danni admitted. "But if we're going to talk, can we go to the ground and sit?"

Her brother realized that she had been carrying Sam and Tucker for hours. He reddened. "Yeah, of course."

Once they were comfortably seated, Danny explained everything that had happened to him: the kidnapping, the Sorting Hat, his escape attempts, how Voldemort might or might not have returned, and the thing he'd learned which had led to the foundation of C.U.R.E. Needless to say, his friends were appalled.

"How is that legal!" Sam raged. "These people are insane!"

"They let… a hat… into your _mind_?" Tucker shuddered. "Man, am I glad that you kept it out."

"Yeah, me too."

Danni frowned. "Hey, Danny. If you're at the forefront of a rebellion, doesn't that mean you kind of have to stay at the school until your group wins?"

Danny went still. "Um…." He groaned. "Ah, crap, I didn't think of that." He hesitated. "Maybe I could direct it through letters or something…?" Another groan. "Ah, crud."

"Too smart for your own good," Sam observed.

Her boyfriend banged his head against a conveniently located tree, wondering how in the world he got into these messes. "Why?" he moaned theatrically. "Why do I do these things to myself? Why, Tucker, why?"

"Why are you asking me? Jazz is the therapist."

"Jazz isn't here."

"Good point. But that still doesn't mean you should ask me."

Danny stopped banging his head against the tree. "And speaking of things I asked you, are you going to check out the Voldemort thing? I figure, since I've stupidly gotten myself stuck here, I might as well take care of him. Assuming he really is still alive, of course."

"Just make sure they don't know you're the one who turned him in," Sam cautioned. "Because if they know, they'll never let you go. Not to mention that they'll start wondering just how an untrained teenager took down Voldemort." She scowled. "What a stupid name."

"I know," Tucker agreed. "It sounds like the name taken by a bunch of impoverished trapeze artists trying to pass themselves off as Italian when it's obvious that they're really Swedes."

"…What he said. But Danny, you will be careful, right?" Sam touched his hand. "It's a bad idea to underestimate wizards."

"I will be," he promised.

Sam nodded. "Good."

They held hands for a moment longer before Danny pulled away with a reluctant sigh. "I'd better get back before someone notices that I'm gone. Bye, guys. You're incredible."

After saying their goodbyes, the Muggles and female halfa dropped Danny off at Hogwarts. They hugged one last time before taking the Infi-map and flying off to America. The one they'd left behind- not willingly, but still abandoned- sighed heavily. He hid his face in his hands, feeling older than Clockwork.

"I don't suppose you'd rewind time and make it so this never happened, huh?" he muttered, knowing that the Tempus Lord could hear him. There was no response. Danny sighed once again. "Yeah, I thought not."

One of his roommates snorted. Danny went very still, flashing back to human form, but the other Hufflepuff didn't awaken.

Danni- or, rather, her duplicate- flew back into the room. She carried with the suitcase Danny had taken with him when he left FentonWorks. "I brought some pencils and a sharpener," she announced quietly. "Because it can't be easy to write with a quill."

"It isn't," Danny confirmed. "Thanks."

Danni touched his hand. "You'll get out of here eventually. There's not a prison in the worlds that can keep Danny Phantom down."

Her brother smiled. "Thanks."

"You already said that."

"Well, I mean it. Thanks, thanks, and thanks again."

She shrugged. "I've been wanting to take a break for a while now. It'll be nice to stay in Amity Park for a couple weeks."

"Just watch out for owls," Danny grumbled. "Except for mine- she's a greater sooty owl from Australia, the land of deadly monsters."

"Nice."

"Yeah." He hugged her. "Take care, okay? And show those ghosts who's boss."

Danni nodded. She had several plans for dealing with the ghosts- and for freeing her adoptive twin. She'd heard that Desiree had a tendency to warp wishes, but if Sam promised to arrange an introduction to Prince Aragon… and it wouldn't hurt to talk with Clockwork. The worst he could do was say no. And she would have a lot of spare time- time she could utilize productively by telling the wizards of America how one of their own had been kidnapped by Brits. Wasn't that one of the causes of the War of 1812, Englishmen kidnapping American citizens?

"Don't worry," she ordered. "I'll show them all who's boss."

* * *

><p>I'm not sure if the Rue-the-day-o-meter is appropriate for this chapter (it was a little… non-humory)…. But last chapter, 27 people voted. The average was 5.74.<p>

A special thanks to NyxWings, who provided the inspiration for Sir Randall. He is not yet Overlord of Hufflepuff, as he just arrived from Amity Park, but he will be. Soon. And if you're still confused, just YouTube "badger randall." You will understand.

Next chapter: Sir Randall and C.U.R.E. in action. And, I hope, Danny will finally meet the Golden Trio (though that might be in chapter 9 if the first part of the breakfast scene lasts too long).

However, updates are going to be a bit slower now. School is heating up, and I've run out of pre-written material to publish. Patience, I beg of you.

-Corona


	8. Chapter 8

**In which Randall acquires his overlordship, the adoration of all Hogwarts, and a chew toy**

The earliest class at Hogwarts began at nine A.M., mostly because that was the traditional starting time. As a result, many students (and, for that matter, teachers) opted not to go to breakfast until after eight. Then they would wait in the Great Hall, chatting cheerily with their friends, until they had to leave for class or risk being late. Though breakfast technically began at seven, it was very rare to see a student there quite so early unless they had to practice Quidditch and wanted to eat before going outside.

Which made it all the more unsettling when the entirety of Hufflepuff House, led by their newest member, entered the Great Hall at seven-o-four in the morning. Danny left almost as quickly as he arrived, confident that his allies knew what to do.

They ate in shifts: first the students without artistic skills or good handwriting gobbled down food, laughing all the while. Then, when their more talented friends had finished working, they traded places. Older students took out their wands and began enchanting the new works of art. First they cast _engorgio, _which was shortly followed by _geminio. _

By seven-thirty, they had created five stacks of parchment, each of which was several inches tall. That was when Danny returned with Peeves in tow.

The poltergeist grinned wickedly. "Danny-boy here says that you're being naughty Puffies. Well, good news- Peeves _likes_ naughty Puffies, and Peeves does _not_ like mean old Filch. I'll be glad to help."

A few of the younger students looked slightly nervous at their new ally's presence, but Danny simply grinned. "Thanks, Peeves."

"No," he cackled. "Thank _you_."

Danny handed his fellow spirit the piles of parchment. "You're sure you can make them all stick?"

Peeves cackled. "Oh, I can make them stick, all right. There's no one in Hogwarts who'll take these down!" He frowned, considered, then grinned again. "Especially if I get Fred and George Weasley to reinforce them. You should meet them, Danny-boy. You'd have lots and lots of fun together." He rubbed his hands with glee.

"I might just have to do that," the halfa decided. "See you later, Peeves!"

The poltergeist zoomed off, nearly hitting Professor Snape, who was walking into the Great Hall. The potions professor was forced to duck. Then, raising his head, he noticed the crowd at Hufflepuff's table.

Black eyes narrowed as he stretched to his full height. "What," he growled, "are you doing?"

Several students stepped back. Strength of numbers or not, Snape was scary. Danny, though, strode forward. "Well, about three-fourths of us are standing. The other quarter is sitting down. We're also breathing and digesting our delicious breakfasts." He rubbed his belly for emphasis. A few of the Hufflepuffs tittered nervously.

"That is not what I meant, Fenton," the Slytherin hissed. He stalked towards the table, robes billowing ominously.

Danny smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Are you threatening me, Severus?" His voice was light, dangerous, filled with the confidence of the hero who had fought monsters beyond counting- and won. Compared to Vlad, Fright Knight, Pariah Dark, this man was nothing.

By now they were standing nose to nose. Danny hadn't finished growing yet, but he was already Snape's equal in height. Their eyes met. Neither looked away.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff for disrespect," he growled.

"Okey dokey." Danny nodded.

Snape was at a loss. He was used to students cowering before him; he didn't know how to handle a teenager who wasn't either terrified of him or groveling at his feet. So he turned to the other, more tractable Hufflepuffs and barked, "Quit loitering, or I'll take five points from each of you!"

For a long moment, the Hufflepuffs hesitated. Then Justin, the first to speak with Danny, plopped into a chair. "I'm still a bit hungry," he announced to the silent hall. "Anyone else want seconds?"

"Sure," said Ernie, sitting down beside him.

The Hufflepuffs sat. Soon only Danny and Snape remained standing.

"You realize that your House is now in the negative?" the professor demanded.

Ernie met his eyes. "Some things are more important than points."

"You little-" Severus reached for his wand- only to find a powerful hand gripping his arm.

"I repeat, Severus: are you threatening us? Because if you are, I will be forced to unleash our security mascot." He patted the strange green-and-gray cylinder at his hip. "And I don't think you'll like him."

"We have a mascot?" whispered Susie the first year. Her brother shrugged. At this point, he wouldn't put anything past Danny.

"Release me," Snape ordered.

Danny did. He watched with narrowed eyes as Snape drew his wand. "I do not know what you little brats are up to," he said, "but it stops-"

"Sweet Merlin!"

"What _is_ that!"

"Sic him, Randall!"

"Hrawhrhrhr!"

The second Snape had turned his attention away from Danny (which, as everyone in the Ghost Zone could have told him, was a fool's mistake), the halfa had opened up his thermos. The glowing creature which emerged from it was just under a foot high, with a long, narrow body. It had shining golden eyes, a thick stripe of black fur on its back, and fluffy white fur on its belly. It also had proportionally enormous fangs and long, sharp black claws.

The honey badger now known as Randall had been enjoying a nice nap in the Dark-Cozy-Den with which He-of-the-Hat-Head had provided him. Then he had found himself thrust out into the world. He floated in confusion for a few seconds before a young… was he human? He looked human, but something told Randall that wasn't entirely true… a young male Thing-That-Is-Unique pointed him towards an Enemy-With-Greasy-Head-Fur.

Randall did not like the Enemy-With-Greasy-Head-Fur (he smelled of the potions lab, which the animal's sensitive nose did not approve of), so he did what every honey badger did when it met someone dislikeable: he attacked.

And so Snape found himself being assaulted by a ferociously hrawhrhrhing monster of unidentified (to him, at least) breed that tore into his robes with its powerful claws.

It took him approximately three seconds to recover from the shock of the attack. Then he ran, kilting up his robes and sprinting from the Great Hall. Randall pursued him for a few seconds before stopping at the threshold and loosing one last triumphant hrawhrhr.

The Great Hall's stunned, half-horrified half-joyous silence was broken when an unknown fourth year cried out, "That was awesome!"

"I want one!"

"We have the best mascot in the world!"

"I vote that we make- um, what's his name?" The sixth year nodded at Randall, who was staring suspiciously at the humans and Thing-That-Is-Unique.

Danny swiped a slice of bacon and offered it to the honey badger. Randall sniffed the tribute warily before gobbling it down. Immediately, half a dozen students grabbed bacon strips and waved them around, asking the 'fluffy awesome thing' to come and eat.

The ghost, who had already decided that he liked bacon very much, obliged.

"This," Danny said proudly, "is Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious. He's a honey badger. Don't ask me how he got here- let's just say that I know people, and the people I know weren't too happy about me being kidnapped."

The sixth year, a Muggle-born who spent his summer on the internet (he claimed it was making up for time lost during the school year), recognized the reference immediately. His face nearly split in half with the force of his grin. "A honey badger? Sweet! I vote that we make him our overlord!"

"You're voting an overlord into office?" asked a third year. "Isn't overlordship inherently undemocratic?"

"I second the motion!" yelled a first year, ignoring her older peer's point. Normally, she wouldn't have done that, but she and her Housemates were giddy, drunk on victory. They wanted to celebrate, and they did so by being silly.

"All in favor say aye."

"Aye!"

"It's settled then. Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious is now Overlord of Hufflepuff!"

"_What_ is Overlord of Hufflepuff?"

The wizards started. In their excitement they hadn't noticed that students were finally beginning to arrive. The first trio, three young Slytherin girls, were staring blankly at their schoolmates.

"Our new ghost honey badger," Danny announced. "He's also the security mascot of C.U.R.E."

The girls stared at Randall, who was being petted by four adoring first year girls. "He's so soft," Susie giggled. Randall accepted the praise (which he deserved, of course. He deserved all the praise) with a gracious hrrr.

The smartest-looking Slytherin, a petite brunette, decided that she probably didn't want to know just how a ghostly honey badger had ended up in Hogwarts. She cut straight to the heart of the matter: "What's cure and why does it need a security mascot?"

Ernie swaggered forward, grinning ear to ear. "I'm glad you asked," he announced. "C.U.R.E. stands for Citizens United for Reform in Education. Our goal is to rid Hogwarts of incompetent or abusive staff such as Filch, Umbridge, and Binns."

"You're going up against Umbridge?" the brunette exclaimed.

"Among others," Ernie confirmed.

She beamed. "How do I join?"

"Here's the membership list," said Justin, carrying it forward. "And here are our petitions. This one will get rid of Umbridge, this one's for Filch, this one's for Binns, and here's Snape's."

The brunette froze. "You're trying to get rid of my Head of House?"

"Since he falls under the 'abusive staff category,' yes."

"Then we can't join," she said miserably.

"You don't have to join," Ernie assured her. "That's why we wrote up four separate petitions, plus the membership list. If you sign just three of them, you won't have to sign the one about Snape."

That's it, Danny decided. When I escape, Ernie can be my successor.

The three girls scanned the petitions. _We, the undersigned, do hereby demand that [Dolores Umbridge, Argus Filch, Cuthbert Binns] be immediately removed from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The aforementioned [teacher, caretaker] is [abusive towards students and/or sadistic and/or unqualified and/or incompetent] and should never have been allowed near children. _

"No loopholes," the brunette muttered. "Yes, we can sign- but only these three. We will _not_ sign anything that would get Professor Snape fired."

"I will," disagreed one of her friends. "My mum says that he was a Death Eater. I don't wanna be taught by a Death Eater, even if he really is reformed like Mum says." She grabbed the final parchment and signed her name with aplomb. "And I'd like to join your group too, please." A sheepish grin. "If only so I can meet your security mascot."

"Can I pet him too?" asked the third Slytherin, fixing the Hufflepuffs with puppy-dog eyes.

Justin and Ernie exchanged glances before silently deferring to Danny. The halfa grinned. "You'll have to ask Sir Randall about that, but it looks like he enjoys getting loved up. So that's probably a yes."

Randall, who was receiving a belly rub while being hand-fed even more delicious bacon, hrrred once more.

The two Slytherins joined the crowd of adoring females which already surrounded Randall. The honey badger grinned, tongue lolling. He liked this Stone-Den-Place-of-Bacon-and-Worshippers.

By this point, more people were entering the hall. They took one look at the new Overlord of Hufflepuff and approached, wanting to know what in the world was that and can I pet him, please?

It was a win-win situation for everyone: C.U.R.E. received a great deal of interest, much more than it would have acquired otherwise, without even leaving their table, and Randall gained a devoted crowd of fans.

The only people who didn't benefit were the teachers, one of whom had an… _interesting_ response to Hufflepuff's new overlord. Dolores Umbridge didn't even bother figuring out why the entire House had gathered at their table and was inspiring other students to sign petitions. All she saw was a glowing thing of dubious hygiene standing about in _her_ school. Brandishing her short, rather unthreatening wand, she stalked over to the honey badger and his admirers.

"Hem, hem," she began, but that was as far as she got before Randall took offense at her very existence. Hrawhrhring furiously, he charged.

Umbridge screamed, throwing up her hands to defend herself, but she was guarding against the wrong type of assault. Randall had no desire to get a bad taste in his mouth by biting her. Instead, he wanted her stick-that-smelled-of-magic.

He thought that it would make an excellent chew toy, and he was right.

Umbridge cowered until the laughter in the Great Hall reached epic proportions. Then, still shaking with leftover fear, she looked up… and saw Randall hovering twelve or so feet above the Hufflepuff table, contentedly gnawing at her wand. For a moment the witch simply couldn't believe it. Then, forgetting her former terror in the face of derision, she strode forward. "Surrender my wand, you beast!" she cried, shaking her fist. "By the authority of the Ministry of Magic, no non-human may handle a wand under any circumstances. Return it to me at once or suffer the consequences!"

Randall burped.

It was at this point that three Gryffindor fifth-years walked into the hall.

"…Hermione, what is that and how is it flying?"

Hermione stared, jaw sagging. "I… don't know," she gasped, amazed. "If I had to guess, I would say that that's a ghost of some kind- an Amity Park ghost, I mean, not one of our ghosts."

"Good guess," announced a cheery voice. "Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious, Overlord of Hufflepuff and security mascot of the Citizens United for Reform in Education, is indeed a ghost. A ghostly honey badger, to be exact."

The three friends slowly turned around to face Danny Fenton, who was observing Umbridge's increasingly ridiculous threats with an expression of utter glee. _That _will teach her to put Danny Phantom in the Body-Bind.

Had Danny been less wrapped up in laughing at the toad-like witch, he might have noticed how stiff Harry and his friends became at his presence. But he was absorbed in his sweet, sweet revenge. By the time he turned, grinning, to face the other teens, they had mastered their nervousness.

"Hi. I'm Danny Fenton. You're Hermione Granger, right?"

"Er, yes." Why was he asking after Hermione? Since he was trying to join Voldemort, shouldn't he be asking about Harry? No, that was foolish- he undoubtedly already knew who Harry was. The lightning-shaped scar was a bit of a giveaway.

"Nice to meet you." Danny extended his hand, obviously intending to shake. Hermione hesitantly offered her own. "I heard that last year you founded a protest group called S.P.E.W. Could you tell me about what kinds of strategies worked and didn't work with it? I just started a protest group of my own, and we could probably use the help."

"You what?" Hermione shrieked. Several bystanders turned to stare. Then, deciding that she wasn't half as entertaining as Umbridge (who was now jumping up and down in her futile attempts to capture Randall), they turned away.

"I started a protest group," Danny repeated, surprised by the venom in her voice. "Citizens United for Reform in Education. We're trying to guarantee… well, a decent education for British wizard kids. By that, I mean that everyone in Hufflepuff is sick of cruddy teachers, soul-sucking demons attacking sports games, sixty-foot death snakes of child-killing evil rampaging through the halls, and gladiatorial-style dragon fights. Not to mention all the extra stuff that your buddy Harry here had to go through." He nodded cordially at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"You're trying to get the teachers fired?" squeaked Hermione. She hadn't heard anything past 'cruddy teachers.' "All of them?"

"Of course not." Danny waved a negligent hand. "Just Snape, Binns, and Umbridge. And Filch, though he's technically not a teacher. A couple kids wanted to get rid of the Care of Magical Creatures guy and the nut job who teaches Divination, but we decided to focus on the truly horrible ones first."

"You're trying to fire Hagrid?" Ron demanded.

"No," Danny repeated, "just the others. Everyone says that Hagrid's getting better. Besides, he's not here right now, and we can hardly fire his substitute. But like I was saying, I wanted to know if you had any tips or not. Oh, and you're all invited to join, too."

Ron was torn between the desire to see Snape sacked and what he knew (or rather, thought he knew) about Danny. The American _seemed _friendly enough, but he had some kind of secret that he knew would get him imprisoned. He glanced at Harry and Hermione, silently asking what they thought. Both the witch and the wizard shrugged.

"It's really not that bad," Danny coaxed. "See, we agreed last night that I'd be the group's scapegoat. I'm the only person who has to do dangerous stuff- assuming that someone has to do dangerous stuff, which, given Hogwarts's track record, really isn't that much of a stretch. We figure that the teachers will be so busy punishing me that they'll pretty much ignore everybody else."

Hermione looked ready to faint at the mere thought of someone voluntarily accepting that much professorial wrath. Or maybe it was the thought of someone rebelling against the teachers.

"We'll think about it," Harry announced.

Danny looked slightly disappointed but accepted their answer graciously enough. "Okay." He fixed Hermione with an expression which he thought of as the Cujo eyes. "You're sure you don't have any tips for me?"

"Absolutely positive," she replied frostily.

"Okay then. See you around." He trotted back to the Hufflepuff table, not particularly upset by Hermione's refusal. He could always ask Sam and Tucker for tips on protesting. His girlfriend especially was good at that kind of thing.

That was when Professors Snape and Dumbledore respectively stormed and glided into the Great Hall. The potions master gestured wildly at Randall, who was now cavorting among the many floating candles. The remains of his chew toy hung from his mouth as he batted playfully at the flames.

"As I said, Headmaster," Snape growled, "the Fenton brat has-"

"Insulting students is widely considered bad behavior for the guy who's supposed to be teaching them," Danny chided.

Snape's answering glare would make a basilisk proud. "That Fenton brat," he enunciated, "has brought some_thing_ into the castle. Look at it." He nodded at Randall. "I demand that it be cast out at once!"

"You can't get rid of Sir Randall!" Justin yelled. "He's our overlord!"

"Yeah! You can't kick out the Overlord of Hufflepuff!"

"Get rid of it, Albus," Umbridge ordered. "And get me back my wand!"

The honey badger chose that moment to drop the tattered, splintered, drool-covered remains of the teacher's wand onto her head. Eyes bulging, she slowly lifted a hand to her hair. It came away covered in saliva.

"Go Randall," Danny muttered.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Fenton," Dumbledore said, "that overlord or not, that creature is certainly not a cat or owl or toad. I will be forced to remove him." He took out the Elder Wand, aimed it at the oblivious honey badger.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore hadn't taken the ghost's natural resistance to magic into account. His Stunning Spell hit Randall in the shoulder but had very little effect. Not even the power and death-lore of the Elder Wand could overcome a fulling ghost's immunity.

Danny, watching Randall shake off the Stunner, was absurdly jealous. What he'd _give_ to shrug off magic like that….

But though Randall wasn't affected by the spell, he still felt it. And he didn't like it. So he swooped down at Dumbledore, snarling. The headmaster fired off another spell before throwing himself to the side, barely avoiding the enraged honey badger.

Randall floated by the threshold. His golden eyes narrowed as he considered attacking He-of-the-Death-Wand again. After a moment's thought, he decided not to.

The honey badger stuck his nose in the air, a decidedly human gesture that he had picked up in the Ghost Zone. He huffed once, just for emphasis, and ambled out of the hall without a care in the world. _He_ knew who was boss around here.

Danny fought back a giggle. It was downright hilarious, seeing old Twinkles being snubbed by a honey badger.

He was called to the headmaster's office for Randall's mere existence, of course, but he didn't mind. The worst they could do was expel him, and he wanted that. Dumbledore, realizing this, decided that the best punishment would be keeping Danny at Hogwarts.

"I hope," he said gravely, "that you realize now that such shenanigans will not help you attain your goals. Only diligent study will let you go home."

"That's what you think," Danny replied cheerily. "Do you want to bet on it? Because I could use a few more Galleons."

"I don't approve of gambling with my students," the professor answered frostily. "Good day, Mr. Fenton."

Danny wandered back to the Common Room, where his year mates were waiting. They were supposed to be in Potions class, but as members of C.U.R.E., they had collectively decided to boycott Potions, History of Magic, and Defense until better teachers had arrived. Until then, they would make do with independent study.

"How'd it go?" Justin asked.

"I get the impression that he's not going to listen to the petitions right away," Danny sighed.

The other Hufflepuff grimaced. "So we'll have to go onto Phase Two, then?"

"Yep. Phase Two it is."

* * *

><p>Oh no. Not Phase Two!<p>

Randall needs love. He demands your adoration. And your bacon!

And of course I'm not siccing C.U.R.E. on Hagrid. I like Hagrid. He's too roly-poly and huggable to earn Hufflepuff's wrath.

Last chapter, 8 people voted on the Rue-the-day-o-meter. They averaged 4.34, but methinks that this chapter's number will be significantly higher. : )

Please check out my new forum, The Bulletin Board. Please?

On a less pleasant note, updates will be slowing down for a while. It will probably be two weeks or so before I can post another chapter. Sorry, but real life takes priority over fun internet hobbies.

-Corona


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter nine: In which Danny and Randall bond over a dead basilisk**

When dinner rolled around, parts of Hogwarts were almost unrecognizable.

The walls were covered with posters, courtesy of Peeves the poltergeist. He had started out in obscure parts of the castle- the Astronomy Tower, the route to Trelawney's classroom- before plastering the Great Hall sometime between breakfast and lunch. When the students arrived for their noontime meal, it was only to find that the Great Hall's walls were almost completely obscured.

C.U.R.E. had created five posters- why limit the group to just one?

The first poster contained four caricatures: a vampire-like man dripping grease from his hair, his perpetual sneer almost hidden by an immense nose; a round pink figure with a toad's head clutching a bloody quill in its hand; a dirty, mad-looking man wielding a mop; and a sepia-toned ghost who seemed to be sleeping. The four caricatures were barricaded behind a red circle with a diagonal line through it, the same symbol used by anti-smoking campaigns and the Ghostbusters. JOIN C.U.R.E. TODAY! it proclaimed.

Another poster showed the same greasy man forcing an evil-looking potion down an innocent toad's throat while children in Gryffindor robes looked on and wept. In the background, the Filch character rubbed his hands with glee. The third: the pink figure representing Umbridge cut open students' hands, ignoring their struggles and tears. The fourth: Professor Binns's classroom filled with beds, blankets, and even a teddy or two. The teacher himself chattered on, oblivious to the fact that his students were fast asleep. The fifth: a gigantic three-headed, slobbering dog trotted through the halls of Hogwarts. It was followed by a great green snake and a trio of dementors, who were in turn followed by a dragon.

All these posters had the same caption: IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT AT HOGWARTS? JOIN C.U.R.E. TODAY!

Umbridge, Filch, and Snape did their best to remove the posters, but Peeves hadn't exaggerated when he said that no one could get them down. He'd had to use up most of his carefully hoarded glue collection (don't ask), but it had been worth it. Oh yes, he thought, watching Filch attack a poster with a mop, definitely worth it.

No one was surprised when Umbridge, using her powers as High Inquisitor, ordered everyone to meet in the Great Hall at six that night, and that anyone who joined this 'band of rebels' was no friend of hers. She told the teachers, who repeated her message verbatim to their classes.

"No friend of hers, eh?" the students muttered, grinning. "Sign me up!"

When supper finally did roll around, over ninety percent of the school had signed at least one of C.U.R.E.'s petitions. Four out of five students was a full-fledged member. Percentages varied from House to House- everyone in Hufflepuff had joined straight on, while the Slytherins had the fewest members- but gaining the allegiance of eighty percent of a population in less than twenty-four hours was nothing to sneeze at.

"I love the smell of chaos in the evening," Danny told Randall. The honey badger, who had been chewing on a basilisk bone, nodded. He wasn't quite sure what the gesture meant, but it seemed appropriate.

"Not that I'm smelling it yet," Danny continued, "since we're in the Secret Chamber or whatever it's called and there's no one around us- nice job finding this place, by the way, this is a great hideout to practice spells and my ghost powers- but you get the idea."

Randall went back to chewing on his basilisk bone.

The honey badger had stumbled upon the 'Secret Chamber' (or, as it was more properly known, the Chamber of Secrets) less than two hours after his debut in the Great Hall. He had needed to explore the Stone-Den-of-Bacon-and-Worshippers, for only a foolish creature remained willfully ignorant of its surroundings. Wandering through the walls, he had found a Second-Dark-Den-in-the-Earth that was filled with the bones of a Great-Snake-Creature. Curious, he had brought a bone back to the Thing-That-Was-Unique, hoping that the Thing would know what it was and where he could find another one. A Great-Snake-Creature that large would provide much meat for his belly.

Danny, seeing an opportunity for promoting C.U.R.E. (not to mention an opportunity for his own privacy. He had to keep up on his ghost powers somehow), had followed the honey badger back to the Chamber. He'd spent the rest of the afternoon working off stress in his ghost form (much to Randall's amazement. The honey badger took an absurd amount of delight in watching Danny switch forms) and, later, practicing first-year spells.

Did he like to think that he would only get out of Hogwarts only by playing their game? No. Was he going to risk closing off any avenue of escape? Once again, no.

"You wanna come with me?" the halfa continued.

Randall considered a moment before returning to his bone.

Danny chuckled. "You sure? Your worshippers miss you."

Well, Randall was hardly going to let his devoted slaves go one moment longer than necessary without coddling him. He dropped his bone to the ground (it wouldn't go anywhere) and watched curiously as Danny bundled up a snakeskin, one of the many which littered the Chamber's floor. He wrapped a basilisk fang within the scaly mass. Then, just for good measure, he added another tooth to the pile.

"Think this'll be enough?"

"Rrr."

"Me too. Let's go, then. By the way, you'll have to lead- I can turn the snakeskin invisible while no one's around, but once we get to Hogwarts I won't be able to see over it."

Randall bared his teeth in his equivalent of a smile.

"And since we're in Britain…" Danny adopted an overdone English accent. "Tally-ho!"

The one-and-a-half ghosts flew into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, where Danny reverted to human form. "Lead the way," he instructed cheerily.

Randall led the way.

The two conspirators stopped at the doors of the Great Hall. It was just past six, so all the stragglers had already entered. Danny pressed his ear against the door, listening silently. He signaled Randall to do the same. The honey badger obeyed.

They had arrived just in time. "Hem, hem," called the unpleasant voice of Dolores Umbridge. Randall growled softly. Danny laid a hand across the animal's back.

"Hem, hem," the witch continued. "Quiet down, please, boys and girls."

The students chattered for a few seconds more, just out of spite, before their conversations trailed off.

"It has come to my attention that you students also realize that the educational standards here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have reached their nadir. Between the dangerous half-breeds-"

Boos erupted from the audience. Danny tensed, grabbed a handful of Randall's fur. Now it was the honey badger's turn to calm him.

She didn't… _know,_ did she?

No, he decided, she couldn't. Wizards had no understanding of 'real' ghosts. They had no idea that hybrids even existed, much less that Danny was one. The half-breeds comment had to be about that Hagrid guy who was MIA and the werewolf who'd taught Defense a couple years ago.

"-lack of Ministry-approved curricula-"

The booing redoubled.

"-and delusions of the Dark Lord's return, neither I nor the Ministry blame you for being worried about Hogwarts. However, the rebellion known as _C.U.R.E._ is not the way to go about addressing your concerns. I am your Ministry-approved teacher. I am your friend. I am here to help you."

Once again, the booing redoubled. Umbridge had to shout to be heard over it. "The seditious American who desires to turn you against me-"

Ah, show time. Danny kicked open the doors. They bounced against the Hall's walls with a satisfyingly dramatic bang.

The hall fell silent. All eyes turned to the new arrival.

Randall, bless his little heart, knew exactly what to do even without being told (or rather asked. One does not _tell_ a honey badger to do anything). He grabbed the top of the basilisk skin pile and zoomed to the center of the hall, stretching out the entire length of the skin. Danny remained in place, holding the tail end of the serpent.

Several girls shrieked. Boys yelped. A couple older students grabbed their wands.

"Exhibit A," Danny announced. "The skin of Slytherin's Monster, a basilisk of child-murdering death. This thing was designed for killing. Its eyes steal life with a glance. Its fangs-" He brandished one in his free hand "-are hollow, filled with poison. Not to mention that they're really sharp. And if all these attack techniques fail, the thing was so big that it could easily have squished you under x thousand pounds of scale and muscle."

Umbridge recovered enough to demand, "What is the meaning of this?"

"If you'll quit interrupting me, I'll tell you," Danny snapped back.

Umbridge flushed, turning almost as pink as her caricature self. "You little-"

"The only action her precious Ministry took against this thing? They arrested an innocent man and threw him to a bunch of soul-sucking demon-beasts without a trial. Problem solved, right? Um, no. Not. At. All.

"In the end, it was a second-year student who brought this thing down. Not the Ministry. Not the school board. A student." He smiled at the appalled, slack-jawed Harry. "He knew that the authority figures around here wouldn't do squat, so at the age of twelve- twelve!- he had to fight this _thing._

"This-" He shook the serpent's discarded skin "-is why we don't trust your precious Ministry. This, and the dementor guardians, and the Ministry-sanctioned gladiator tournament, and all the other crap you've let this place experience. The school itself is definitely at fault here- no one can dispute that- but so. Are. You." He fixed Umbridge with a glare that would have done the dead basilisk proud.

"And now that you bureaucrats have finally gotten off your butts long enough to do anything, you're going about it all wrong. Blood Quills, Dolores? Really? How does torture help 'improve Hogwarts's standards'?"

She didn't answer. Danny smiled, hard and cold as ice. "That's what I thought you'd say."

He dropped the skin, fixed a level gaze on the students. "Those who were supposed to take care of us have failed. One failure was forgivable, but I don't even know how many times they've let us down. Each year, things here at Hogwarts get worse and worse. That's why we have to take things into our own hands."

He stalked up to the Head Table. "And we have. If you signed any of the petitions or our membership list, please stand up."

Chairs scraped across the stone floor. Robes rustled. Almost every single Hogwarts student rose to his feet.

Randall tugged at the hem of Ernie's robes. The Hufflepuff grinned. He understood exactly what the honey badger wanted him to do. Taking out four sheets of parchment, he strode to stand beside Danny. "Here are the petitions, Headmaster, which demand the firing of Dolores Umbridge, Severus Snape, Cuthbert Binns, and Argus Filch."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid I must deny them," he said gravely.

Umbridge recovered enough to speak. "This is an outrage!" she cried. "An-"

Randall growled. The witch fell silent.

"I have to warn you," Danny said in a too-light, too-pleasant voice, "that we of C.U.R.E. are prepared to take action if you don't even consider these."

Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "I understand that you are upset about leaving your family-"

"But," Danny interrupted (and around him, a great gasp went up as wizards stared in horrified wonder at the boy who had _interrupted Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_), "that doesn't explain why so many people have joined the group, now, does it? C.U.R.E. couldn't have been formed unless there was a lot of pent-up rage here."

The headmaster waved a negligent hand, a grandfather humoring his beloved, if rather dim, grandson. "Hogwarts has no intention of firing any teachers. Even Dolores will be gone by the end of the year, when the curse takes hold."

Danny latched onto his last comment. "So there is a curse, huh? Tell me, how many people have tried to remove that curse? How many experts have you brought in to get rid of it?"

Dumbledore blinked at him.

"The Ministry of Magic believes that there is no curse on my position," Umbridge announced. "Now sit down, you little-"

"…Please tell me that you've actually attempted to remove it. Please tell me that you didn't just wave your wand with a simple _finite incantatem_ and call it a day."

"I assure you, Mr. Fenton, that I put in considerably more effort than that." Dumbledore's voice was cold, no longer indulgent.

"What about the experts?" Danny demanded. "How many of them did you hire? And for that matter, didn't it ever occur to you to change the title? Even I know that names have power- why didn't you change Defense Against the Dark Arts to just plain old Defense?"

Dumbledore stood, very tall. "I do not believe, Mr. Fenton, that you know what you are talking about."

"Even if I don't, what about them?" Danny gestured at the watching hall. "They've been here a lot longer than I have, but they feel the same way. Heck, I didn't even come up with the name-change idea. That's Jason's brainchild. And Jason is thirteen."

Jason waved, as did his sister Susie.

"Each of these staff members, with the exception of Dolores, has my complete trust."

"I trust Sir Randall, but I wouldn't let him teach Potions to eleven-year-olds. No offense, Overlord."

The honey badger snorted. What did the Thing-That-is-Unique mean, he wouldn't _let_ Randall teach? No Thing, unique or not, would command the Overlord of Hufflepuff. If Randall had wanted to teach Potions (which he didn't. Potions smelled), there wasn't a blame thing the Thing could do to stop him.

Not that he could communicate these thoughts to the halfa. Honey badgers were many things, but articulate was not one of them. Some ghost animals could speak, but if Randall was destined for that ability, he hadn't acquired it yet.

"You are being ridiculous, Mr. Fenton."

"No, _you're _the one who's being ridiculous. It's abundantly clear that Snape's a jerk, Filch is a jerk, Umbridge is a jerk, and Binns is incompetent. The students of Hogwarts are sick and tired of putting up with them. That's why we made these petitions." His eyes narrowed. "Ignore them if you want, but know that there will be consequences. We aren't going to quit just because you don't take us seriously."

That was a good note to end on. Danny spun on his heel, stalked majestically out of the Great Hall. He paused at the threshold. "Tomorrow, we initiate Phase Two." Then he stepped out, slamming the door behind him.

"Go C.U.R.E.!"

The world would never learn just who was responsible for that cry, but it was quickly taken up by almost every student in the school.

"Phase Two!"

"Fenton and the Overlord!"

"_Viva la revolucion_!"

It took a few Silencing Spells (which were all of dubious legality and would be remembered), but the professors eventually settled their rowdy students down. "Staff meeting," Dumbledore murmured. Followed by his employees, he adjourned to the teachers' lounge.

"I think we should listen to them," Sprout announced the moment they were out of the students' hearing. "Merlin knows I've felt the same way on more than one occasion."

"That is irrelevant, Pomona," Dumbledore said coldly. "If we let them triumph, children will rule the school before the year's end."

"Albus, don't you understand that this is only the beginning? Daniel is right. Discontent has been simmering for years, kept at bay only by fear and disorganization. Now that they've joined together-"

"They don't know what they're talking about," Umbridge hissed. "Treason against the Ministry of Magic!"

Sprout could have strangled her. "You know it's true, Dolores! Daniel struck a match; now the school will go up in flames faster than Neville Longbottom's cauldron unless we nip this in the bud. I know my badgers. United, they can do anything they set their minds to- and right now, they've set their minds to reforming the school."

She repeated her argument several times, but no one listened. Instead, they carried on their own conversation about how to break the student rebellion without even listening to the children's demands.

Pomona gave up. Rubbing her temples, she muttered, "All right. Do it your way. But don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

><p>At the same time that Danny stormed from the Great Hall, Jazz looked out her dorm's window and saw a ghost. A teenage girl ghost, to be exact.<p>

"Hi, Danni," she said with a smile.

Her sort-of sister phased through the wall. "Hi, Jazz. You know how we couldn't get Danny out?"

Jazz's grip tightened around her pen. "Oh, I know." The pen snapped, spilling ink onto her desk.

"Well," the halfa announced, "there's no way I'm letting him stay there any longer than necessary. So I came up with this." She handed a sheet of paper to her sister. "The only problem is that I don't legally exist, so would you mind claiming credit for writing this?"

"Of course," Jazz agreed. She scanned the paper. As she read, she began to smile. The smile grew steadily wider. "I'd be glad to claim credit. Are you sending another version to the British media too?"

"I think so, yeah, but I've only had time to write this." Danni grinned sheepishly. "You know I don't have a lot of experience at typing."

Jazz nodded.

Danni's head snapped up. "Ah, crud," she groaned. "The duplicate I left back at Amity is being attacked. Mind if I head out? I'd prefer to have all my power while fighting Vlad."

"Of course you can!" Jazz exclaimed. She knew exactly how tough the older halfa was. Danni was powerful and experienced enough to beat him, but it was probably a bad idea to cripple her with an unnecessary duplicate.

The ghost girl nodded once before vanishing into the ether.

Jazz sighed softly. "Good luck, little sister."

* * *

><p>"Where is he?" Vlad demanded.<p>

"Wouldn't you like to know," Danni sneered, dodging the older man's blast.

"I'm no fool, Danielle. Daniel's friends wouldn't have summoned you unless they were very, very desperate."

The girl's eyes flashed. Oh, he was just asking for it.

Tucker, watching the ensuing beating, flinched. "I almost feel sorry for Vlad." A crash. "Okay, now I do feel sorry for him."

"Don't," Sam instructed. "He's a jerk."

Tucker nodded. Vlad had indeed done some rather jerky things- cloning attempts, attempts to melt that cloning attempt, kidnapping, hijacking an airplane (admittedly one he'd owned, but still), setting Rome on fire and framing the Emperor Nero (thereby cementing his reputation as one of the worst jerks in history)…. But jerk or not, school _had_ been cancelled for the day when the so-called Wisconsin Ghost had made an appearance. So he kind of owed the halfa one.

Ishiyama and Lancer knew from past experience that when 'that vampire wannabe in the weird Elvis/Dracula getup' shows up, things tended to explode. As such, it was a better idea to evacuate the students before they got hurt.

Besides, it was Friday. Even teachers like getting home early on Fridays.

Danni swooped down. Her hair was matted with green ichor, the left leg of her pants torn, but she was smiling. "Guess who won?" she laughed, brandishing a Fenton thermos.

The humans grinned. "Vlad," they chorused.

Danni snorted. "Yeah, right." She gave the thermos a little shake. Something inside it thudded against the walls.

"What now?" Tucker asked. "A celebratory Nasty Burger?"

"How is it celebratory to feast on the murdered carcass of an innocent animal?" Sam demanded.

"It's celebratory because it's delicious. _Duh._"

Danni grimaced. She hadn't experienced one of these carnivore/vegan 'debates' before, but Danny had told (meaning warned) her all about them. "If they ever start going at it, you need to distract them," he had advised. "Preferably before sporks get involved. And no, Danni, you really don't want to know what I mean by that."

The halfa cast her mind about for a distraction. Fortunately, her brother had provided the perfect excuse. "Why don't we go to the Halo de Sondiscoj? I bet that Jack and Maddie are out of the house right now. We could sneak in, borrow the Specter Speeder, and head over to the Hall."

"Good idea," Sam said, "but you forgot one thing."

"What?"

"What happens when they come back and find the Specter Speeder missing?"

Green eyes narrowed. "Are you implying that I should let them chase me around town until you guys get back?"

"Actually, I wasn't. But that's not a bad idea."

Tucker stuck out his lower lip. "Will you do it? Please?"

Danni's lips twitched. "Fine. But I expect a reward after this, understand?"

"You mean a celebratory-"

"Actually, I meant a movie at the theater. With lots of buttery, greasy popcorn and a pop the size of my head."

"Okay," Tucker agreed. "I'll check out the list of showings in the Speeder. Now, unless my timing is quite off, they should show up right-"

The GAV barreled into the parking lot, nearly crushing Tetslaff's car.

"-now."

"That's my cue," Danni observed.

The humans watched her zoom off, pursued by the Fentons. Sam shook her head. "That family is so messed up."

"Tell me about it," Tucker agreed.

Their discussion on how messed up the Fenton clan was continued as they entered FentonWorks (its residents had left it unlocked in their haste to get to Danni), acquired the Specter Speeder, and sailed it into the Ghost Zone. Tucker set the machine on autopilot and leaned back in his seat. "Okay, I think we've about exhausted that subject."

Sam shook her head. "I don't think that an encyclopedia could exhaust that subject."

"Okay, point. But I still want to stop. It's kind of depressing."

"My forte," Sam noted. "You have anything better to talk about?"

"Um… backup plans to break Danny out of Hogwarts?"

"Works for me. But I'm not sure if those are really necessary, you know? Danny is more than capable of finding his own way out."

"But conspiring is fun."

Sam smiled wickedly. "Good point."

That conversation continued until they actually arrived at the Halo de Sondiscoj. Then they had slightly more important things to say, like explaining to the bemused guard what a pair of humans was doing at the seat of the Ghost Zone's government. Fortunately, this guard was a fan of Phantom's, so he let them pass.

The hall was set up rather like an American bank that had been adapted for customers who could fly. Three rows with fifteen tellers each took up the far wall. Each teller had a long line standing or floating before him. The two humans joined the shortest ground line (unlike ghosts, they couldn't fly to one of the upper rows) and waited. Ten minutes later, they approached the teller, who gawked at them with bulging red eyes.

"Hi," the techno-geek said, speaking Esperanto, "I'm Tucker Foley. I'd like to look at the death record for a guy calling himself Lord Voldemort, please. He supposedly died Halloween nineteen ninety-one."

The ghost frowned slightly, but he _was_ getting paid to help anyone who asked for it. "All right then, Mr. Foley. Let me pull that up…." He typed a few words into his computer, hit enter.

Tucker had an excellent view of the clerk's emotional progression. The ghost's face was initially disinterested, if faintly bemused at the humans' presence, but that quickly changed. Horror came first, then fury. "That- that- _abomination!_" He slammed his hands against the keyboard, spat a curse. "Seven? _Seven!_"

"Seven whats?" Tucker asked.

The ghost stood. "Wait here," he ordered. "I need to find an Observant."

"Is that really necessary?" the techno-geek squeaked. He wasn't particularly comfortable around the one-eyed mutants.

"It is!" the ghost called as he flew away.

Tucker looked at Sam. Sam looked at Tucker. The other ghosts in the room looked at both of them.

The awkward silence was broken by Sam's sigh. "I get the feeling something bad just happened."

"Yeah," Tucker groaned. "Me too."

* * *

><p>I got the Chamber of Secretssecret headquarters thing from deadlydaisy808, who pointed out that no crossovers actually take advantage of the secret room underneath the school. I don't think she intended for it to become Randall's official home, but... well, it IS being used.

About the timeline: in the HP canon, Voldemort died Halloween 1981, not 1991, as Tucker said. I know this. I also know that the DP universe is set at least a decade after the HP adventures begin because of all the technology. To make the timelines slightly more compatible (without involving Clockwork), I'm just pretending that everything in HPland happened 10 years later than JKR said.

Remember, the ghost clerk dude is a GHOST. By that, I mean he is dead. He and his buddies don't care about humans dying _quite_ as much as humans do (they see it as natural, inevitable, and sometimes beneficial- THEY know that dead people just become ghosts), so they're not overly concerned about that part of Voldie's terrorist campaign. But I imagine that ghosts would be very, VERY annoyed at some idiot human splitting his soul SEVEN times. Voldie really should have just stuck to murder. Then he wouldn't have random ghost clerks (as) angry with him.

Last chapter, 37 people voted on the Rue-the-day-o-meter. Their votes averaged 7.369.

Hopefully updates will be a bit faster now, but no guarantees. It's almost time for finals (ominous dun-dun-_dun_)...

-Corona


	10. Chapter 10

**In which a grievous misunderstanding is made**

Danny was supremely grateful that, among the other possessions Danni and their human friends had brought him, he had found a few pens. Quills were, in his opinion, kind of stupid. There was a _reason_ that Muggles had switched to pens and pencils.

He made a mental note to thank his sister and buddies for their gifts later on in his letter. For now, though, best to tell them about the giant death snake and how he may have done irreversible damage to British magical society (and how he didn't really care). He was in the middle of a sentence when the world went blue.

Well, not entirely blue. It was just that everything in the Hufflepuff Common Room had been tinted with cerulean, turning some of the yellow furniture green. With the blueness came stillness. Nothing, not the prefects, not the portraits, not even the crackling fire, moved.

A huge smile threatened to split Danny's face. One hand grasped the medallion which had appeared on his chest. The other laid down the pen. He hopped into the air, rings flaring around his waist. "Clockwork!"

The age-shifting time ghost smiled. "Hello yourself, Daniel. I trust that you like your new accommodations?"

The halfa snorted. "No. Please tell me you're here to rescue me. Please. I don't think the wizards can survive much more of me."

Clockwork's companion, whom Danny hadn't even noticed, cleared its nonexistent throat. Danny started. What in the worlds was an Observant doing here?

The only explanation he could think of involved him being in trouble. He wasn't quite certain what he was accused of this time- how was it his fault that he'd been kidnapped by wizards and dragged off to Britain?- but the Observants didn't exactly like him. It was entirely possible that they were using his absence from Amity Park as an excuse for… something.

"For once, they aren't trying to eliminate you," Clockwork assured him. Once again, Danny wondered if the fulling ghost could read minds or if he was really just that good at reading people.

"He speaks the truth," the Observant admitted. It sounded angry, just as its kind usually did whenever faced with Danny, but for once, the anger wasn't directed at him. That was new. "Daniel Fenton-Phantom, the Council has a task for you. If you choose to accept it, we will release you from the magic keeping you in Britain and prevent the wizards from recapturing you. If you do not, Clockwork and I will leave you to your own devices."

"Sign me up." If Clockwork hadn't been there, he would have been a bit more suspicious of the Observant's offer. But he trusted the time ghost implicitly. His guardian wouldn't let anything happen to him.

The Observant nodded. "Minutes ago, your human friends arrived at the Halo de Sondiscoj to ask after the death record of Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Oh, so that was Voldemort's real name.

"The clerk who gave them the record discovered some… irregularities." The giant eyeball twitched. "Seven of them. I don't suppose you have ever heard of Horcruxes?"

"No, but they sound nasty. What are they?"

Fire flared in the Observant's eye. "They are an abomination!" it cried. "And that- that- that _wizard_ has created seven of them!"

Danny glanced at Clockwork, pleading for a better explanation. The time ghost obliged. "When a person commits murder- not manslaughter in self-defense, not death in battle, but cold-blooded, premeditated murder- his soul tears. Some wizards have discovered a way to take advantage of this split. When they commit the murder, they perform a ritual that will send the soul fragment from their body into a vessel of their choice."

The halfa's face paled until it was whiter than his hair. The thought of someone _willingly, permanently _sundering his soul…. It was enough to make him shudder. And the full-breed ghosts, who were more soul than body, were even more horrified.

"This Voldemort guy made _seven_ of those things?"

"Yes," the Observant hissed. "One has, thank the Ancients, been destroyed, but the others are still at large."

Danny nodded. "You want me to destroy the others. Of course I'll do it. Where are they?"

The Observant recited a list of objects and names.

Danny stared. "Wait. Harry Potter's a Horcrux? How does that even work? I mean, Voldemort's tried to kill him how many times?"

"He messed up on the Horcrux preparation ritual before he went to kill Harry," Clockwork explained. "When he tried to create a Horcrux with the child's death, his magic backfired, separating him from his body and knocking off another portion of his soul."

"…So he made a Horcrux without realizing it."

"Indeed."

"Well, okay. He's a wizard. I guess I can accept that he's done some stupid things in his day. But how the heck am I supposed to get the Horcrux out of Harry without killing him?"

"You are a halfa, are you not?" the Observant asked.

Danny slapped himself on the forehead. "Oh. Duh. I get it."

Clockwork chuckled. "I told you he was intelligent enough to understand."

Danny smiled his thanks, began to plan aloud. "Okay. I don't want to lug my stuff around the country with me, so I'll leave Harry and the crown-diadem-thingy until last. That way I can grab my stuff and head out. First I'll get that locket- too bad the poor elf-guy didn't kill it already- then the goblet, because they're both in London…. I'll take the Horcrux out of Nagini without killing her, just to make sure I can, then get the ring." He nodded. "And I might as well capture Voldemort too while I'm at it." He had a plan and an escape. His half-life was good.

"Make sure that the ring itself is unharmed," the Observant instructed. "Then deliver it to us."

"What's so special about the ring?"

"It can summon any spirit whose true name is known to the summoner," Clockwork explained.

"Oh. Yeah, I can see why you'd want that in the Ghost Zone. So I'll de-Horcrux the snake, de-Horcrux the ring, tie up Voldie, then swing by Hogwarts and de-Horcrux Harry and the crown. Actually, I'll just de-Horcrux everything instead of actually, you know, murdering them. It'll give me practice for Harry."

The Observant nodded regally. "A good plan, Danny Fenton-Phantom. You may keep the other items so long as we receive the ring."

Clockwork grinned. "I have a feeling that you'll appreciate the diadem especially."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't worry. You'll find out. Now, did you want me to remove the curse now or should we wait?"

Danny became like a kid in a candy shop, practically jumping up and down with excitement. "Now please. I mean, I can't destroy the Horcruxes until it's removed, and you want me to destroy them right away, right?"

"We do indeed," the Observant agreed.

Clockwork placed his hands on the halfa's temples. "What I'm going to do is accelerate your acquisition of immunity," he explained.

"…That means that in a few seconds, I'll have the magical immunity of a fulling, right?"

"Exactly," he confirmed. "There. Done."

Danny focused on the spell Dumbledore had cast on him. As he felt it dissolve, a grin threatened to split his face in two. "It's gone. It's gone! Thank you, Clockwork, thank you!" He wrapped the time ghost in a hug. Heck, he was almost happy enough to hug the Observant!

"Good luck, Danny."

"The Council appreciates your service."

The two ghosts backed into a portal. Danny flashed back into his human form, resumed his old position. The blue tint faded from the world. Time started up again.

Still smiling, Danny scrawled another paragraph onto the letter. He could easily take Malcedema with him when he left Hogwarts, but she probably wouldn't appreciate travel by Infi-map. No, he should give her a letter and send her home. That was much more considerate.

On his way out of the Common Room, he stopped by Ernie. "Hey. Remember what I said earlier today?"

The other Hufflepuff nodded. His eyes were very wide. "You mean you've already found a way back?"

Danny's expression of joy was answer enough.

"We'll owl you," Justin promised. "Tell you how C.U.R.E. is doing. And we'll tell the professors that you're hiding out in a secret passage or something so they don't look for you back in America."

Danny laughed softly. "You guys are evil geniuses," he declared. "And to think that everyone else thinks us 'Puffs are stupid. No, you're only pretending to be nice and innocent." He extended his hand, grasped Justin's in a firm clasp. "Good luck, you guys." He shook with Ernie. "And don't worry. You'll be a great leader. You'll make Hufflepuff proud."

That said, he crawled out the barrels into the hall. Soon he arrived at the Owlery, where Malcedema flew down to land on his shoulder. "You up for a trip to America?" he asked. "You know, to your home. This place was never meant to be your home- that's back in Amity Park with me." He petted her back, gentle as can be. "Actually, I'll probably be there before you."

Malcedema stuck her beak in the air. _Yeah, right,_ she seemed to say.

"Wanna race?"

Birds were incapable of grinning, but no one had told Malcedema that. Somehow she managed to grin without the aid of lips.

"I'll take that as a yes." Danny tied the letter to her leg and tossed her into the air. "See you in Amity Park!"

He watched the owl fly for a few moments before closing his eyes. "I'm going ghost."

* * *

><p>"This is horrible," Hermione announced. "Horrendous. He's leading a rebellion against the teachers. The <em>teachers!<em>"

"I'm a bit more concerned about the Death Eater thing," Ron said dryly. "And how he got into the Chamber of Secrets. How _could _he if You-Know-Who hadn't told him?"

"And I'm a bit more concerned about his following," Harry agreed. "Because in all honesty, if we didn't know that he's done something bad enough to warrant a stay in Azkaban, I would join that group of his. I want Snape and Umbridge gone as much as anybody. Don't look at me like that, Hermione. You know they're awful."

"Filch and Binns too," Ron agreed, "though in different ways."

"I'll admit that their teaching styles leave much to be desired," Hermione hissed, "but considering that the rebellion against them is being orchestrated by a criminal who is apparently in contact with You-Know-Whom, I think we should stay out of C.U.R.E."

Harry held up his hands defensively. "I know that. We both know that, right, Ron?"

"Mm-hm."

Hermione huffed. "Can you get out the map, Harry? If I were Fenton, I would write home sometime tonight, if only to warn my parents that I was about to get expelled."

"Of course." The wizard dug his inheritance out from his pockets. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good. Or at least, Fenton is." He scanned the map. "Can't find him. I think he's in the Hufflepuff Common Room."

"Why was it that your dad and his mates never got there?" Ron grumbled.

"It says in _Hogwarts, A History_ that the Hufflepuff Common Room is the only dormitory with a security system," Hermione explained absently. "No one has ever been able to penetrate it. Helga was very protective of her badger cubs."

Ron shuddered at the mention of badgers. "And speaking of those things, d'you think he'll give one to You-Know-Who? I mean-" He glanced apologetically at Hermione "-Fenton is Muggle-born, so he'll have to prove himself before You-Know-Who lets him join. Bringing an army of evil ghostly monsters would definitely qualify."

"But didn't you just say that he's already proven himself? If You-Know-Who wasn't impressed with Fenton, he wouldn't have told him how to enter the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry frowned slightly. "I just thought of something. If he is Muggle-born, why is he joining a nutter whose goal in life is to eliminate non-wizards? Seems a bit odd, don't you think?"

"People do strange things in the name of revenge, Harry," Hermione said. "And remember what Ernie told us yesterday. He doesn't seem to like his parents much." She smiled ruefully. "Not that this is the first time a less-than-pure-blooded wizard has joined You-Know-Who's campaign. He is himself a half-blood."

Harry nodded; Tom Marvolo Riddle was indeed a half-blood. Then, glancing back down at the map, he grinned. "I was right. He was in the Common Room, but he's coming out now." A pause as he scanned the rest of the map, half-expecting to see a dot designating Tom Marvolo Riddle "…. Please tell me that that dot on the third story isn't really labeled 'Overlord Randall.'"

"…I wish I could, Harry. I wish I could."

"How did that happen?" Ron whimpered. "Because that thing scares me, mates. I don't want it to be overlord of an entire House!"

"And technically," Hermione moaned, "honey badgers aren't even badgers. I think they're more closely related to the weasel."

"If you say so," Harry muttered, still nonplussed. "Oh, look. I think- yeah, Fenton's heading to the Owlery."

"Where's that monster of his going?"

Harry's eyes went wide. "…Moaning Myrtle's bathroom!"

"What?" Hermione snatched the map. "He is!"

"And now he's going through the wall," Ron observed. "And now he's vanished. Harry, unless my memory fails me, that's the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets."

"How did an animal find a chamber that's remained hidden for centuries?" demanded Hermione.

"Maybe Randall learned from his master," Harry suggested.

Ron nodded. "And of course, Randall's master learned from his master. There's no other way he could have gotten that basilisk skin."

"Fenton's in the Owlery," Harry observed, bringing them back onto topic. "Come on, Ron. We need brooms now." He dropped the map, narrowly missing Danny's transformation.

The redhead grinned. "Remember that I get your Firebolt tonight!"

"I remember, I remember."

They repeated (or at least intended to repeat) their plan from last time: hit the owl carrying Fenton's letter with a Body-bind, then tear the letter from its stiff talons. Unfortunately (for them), Danny had decided to use his new owl, Malcedema. She did not appreciate being shot at by wizards. She was rather like Danny that way.

With the characteristic bomb-like screech of her species, the owl dove for Harry. He dodged the feathery Bludger, supremely grateful for his Quidditch experience.

Ron, though, lacked his friend's experience. Sure, he was on the Quidditch team too, but he hadn't been Keeper for long. Malcedema fell on him, talons tearing, shrieking at the top of her lungs. Ron's answering shrieks were considerably less ferocious and much more terrified. "Gerroff me! Gerroff me, you bloody bird!"

Malcedema dove, barely avoiding Harry's Body-bind. It hit Ron instead. The redhead went stiff. The younger boy swore. He whipped his wand around, firing another volley of curses. At the same time, he swerved his broom around, attacking her physically.

The owl was an excellent flyer, but she wasn't the youngest Seeker in over one hundred years. Harry grabbed her by the wing. She struggled, but another Body-bind put an end to that.

That was when Harry realized that Ron was sliding off the broom. He'd been leaning slightly to the left when his friend's hex had hit. He hadn't fallen off quite yet, but inevitably would in another few seconds. Harry shot a _finite incantatem_ at his friend. Ron, cursing, dragged himself upright. "I hate that bird," he declared. "And that badger. No- _both _badgers."

Malcedema shot him a baleful glare. Evidently the feeling was mutual.

"It wants to kill me," the redhead added. "I think it wants to kill both of us."

"Let's just duplicate the letter and let the owl go."

"Are you mad, mate? The second that thing is released from the Body-bind, it'll come right at us. Just wait for the spell to wear off naturally. The bird _probably…._" He trailed off. "Scratch that. I don't want to give it ideas."

"Okay, then." Harry cast _geminio_ at the epistle. "You've got the faster broom, Ron. Will you drop this one off somewhere by the walls? Thanks."

When they returned to the ground, Hermione took one look at their battle wounds and gasped, "Do you need Madame Pomfrey?"

"I'm fine," Ron assured her. "Let's just read the letter already."

"He's used the lemon juice technique again," Hermione observed. "See how much blank space there is?" A quick spell later, and the true letter was revealed.

_Dear everyone, _

_An introduction: This lovely lady is Malcedema the greater sooty owl. She hails from Australia, the land of deadly monsters. She seems to dislike wizard profs almost as much as I do, so we get along great. She likes being tickled under the beak. _

_You guys are awesome, as is Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious. He has adjusted very well to Hogwarts. In fact, my Housemates have voted (yes, voted) him Overlord of Hufflepuff. He's also become the attack mascot of my revolution thing and an object of adoration for dozens of teenage (and, admittedly, preteen) girls. In other words, he's living the good life. Well, figuratively. He's not exactly __alive__…._

_Dumbledore, just like I predicted, is in the way of my plans. Therefore he must be utterly crushed. And I have just the plan to do it! By the time I'm done, he'll be begging for Voldemort's tender mercies. One hint: Remember what Sam, Tucker and I did to the Nasty Burger that one time? No, not the time with the explosion where everyone almost died. The other time, with Vlad and McMaster's and all that. Picture that, but with a ghostly honey badger and an army of enraged teenaged wizards. It'll be awesome. _

_The revolution is actually a lot more successful than I expected. There's a lot of pent-up rage here at Hogwarts, what with the GIANT DEATH SNAKE ATTACKS and all. I might have just destabilized a large portion of British magical society, but oh well. Omelets and eggs, you know. But my point_

Here the paragraph stopped. The Gryffindors had no idea why.

_I'd write more, but right now I have Voldemort stuff to do. And by 'Voldemort stuff,' I mean that I'm going to go kill the Horcruxes._

_Much love, _

_Danny_

'Kill the Horcruxes.'

'Kill.'

The three Gryffindors had never heard of Horcruxes. Not Harry, who had one in his head. Not Ron, who had been raised in the world of magic. Not Hermione, who read everything she could get her hands on. Not one of them had any idea that Horcruxes were soul vessels, bad things that had to be destroyed.

All they saw was a proper noun, a name in the plural. So they reached a conclusion that was as inevitable as it was wrong: The Horcruxes were a family who had done something to irritate Voldemort, and Danny was going to kill them. Was probably killing them right at that moment.

Hermione's face went ghostly white. She looked ready to be sick.

They had delayed far, far too long. Now there was only one thing they could do.

"We need to go to Dumbledore. Now."

* * *

><p>The sad thing is, from their perspective, that conclusion is totally logical. Horcrux does look kind of like a name, doesn't it?<p>

Rue-the-day from last chapter: 7.37.

Next chapter: Dumbledore, Horcruxes, and another grievous misunderstanding.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: In which Danny befriends a dragon**

Danny phased through the Gringotts vault, clutching his first de-Horcruxed Horcrux in his hand. The soul fragment which Hufflepuff's cup had once housed was already gone, dispersed into the ether. Only the vessel remained. Danny tucked it into his backpack, making a mental note to hide it someplace in the Common Room when he popped back to Hogwarts to grab his stuff. Now, though, he had another mission.

"Nice dragon…_ nice_ dragon…."

The beast raised its head. It was no breed of dragon Danny had seen or read about; pink-skinned and almost scaleless, with milky blind eyes and a tattered crest. The poor thing looked absolutely miserable. Even from across the room Danny could count its ribs.

"Good dragon." Danny floated over, placed a cool hand on the creature's snout. "I'm here to help you." Intangibility spread throughout the beast's body. Its chains, which had been digging into raw, infected flesh, fell away. "Sam would kill me if I didn't."

The dragon, perhaps sensing that this was a friend, remained still.

"Okay." Danny perched on its back. "The trip's a bit nasty, but it's worth it." One hand touched the animal's back. The other clutched the Infi-map. "Caer Drak in Ynnis Adar!"

The dragon made a most un-dragonish squawking noise as the map dragged him and his rider into the Ghost Zone. But just as Danny had assured it, the reward was worth the stomach-churning journey.

"Sir Fenton-Phantom?" the chamberlain asked blankly.

"The one and only." Danny grinned before returning to seriousness. "I brought you guys a refugee. Do you know if Her Majesty can take care of… dunno if this is a guy or a girl, so I'm just going to say it."

"Of course she can," the chamberlain exclaimed. "She is wyrmkin herself!"

"That's why I brought it here." Danny slid from his dazed mount's back. "And I'd love to stay and chat, really, but I have some Horcruxes to dest-"

"Horcruxes?" the chamberlain squawked. "Soul vessels? Off with you now. I'll tell Her Majesty. You can give her your full report later."

"Thanks." He fished out the Infi-map, spread it. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London!"

And he was off.

This Horcrux was much harder to find than the badger cup. If not for his wizzy sense, Danny might have searched for hours. As it was, he found the locket in some kind of _closet_ that an actual person was sleeping in. An elf, admittedly, but still a person.

Danny's lips twisted in disgust.

According to the Observants, this was Kreacher the house-elf, who had spent the last sixteen years trying to destroy the locket. His failure, among other things (maybe like sleeping in a CLOSET) had driven him mad.

Danny could steal the locket like he'd technically stolen the cup, but that wouldn't be right. Kreacher would be devastated over the necklace's disappearance, believing that he could never carry out his beloved master's last command. With that in mind, Danny formulated a plan.

First he overshadowed the locket. He hated overshadowing objects, probably as a result of seeing Technus do it so many times, but he still possessed the power. In this case, his mere presence was enough to force the soul fragment (it felt like rotten fruit clinging to his skin, like slime and filth and foulness, the contents of a sewer) out of the necklace. Once the soul was out of its anchor, it dissipated into the ether, leaving nothing but an aftertaste on Danny's tongue. Then the halfa overshadowed Kreacher.

The house-elf was in the grips of a nightmare, watching in silent horror as corpses reached up from a foul underground lake and dragged his master into their midst.

Poor thing. Did he have to go through this every single night? And in a closet, no less.

Invisible, Danny dove into the body of Kreacher's master, whose name he did not know. The Observants hadn't mentioned it. Once he was inside, his host's eyes flaring green, he wove whips and flails of flame, brandished them at the zombies. The undead monsters retreated.

Kreacher collapsed to his knees, sobbing. "Master Regulus is all right. Oh, Master Regulus…."

Danny's heart went out to him. He brought Regulus's stolen form over, knelt down by Kreacher. He placed his hand on the house-elf's shoulder. "Listen to me, Kreacher," he said gently. "I'm very proud of you for taking care of the locket for so long even when it seemed so hopeless. As a reward, I've come back for just long enough to help you fulfill your task. Tomorrow, when you wake up, I want you to try to destroy the locket again."

"…Master?"

"I'm only back for a few minutes," Danny lied. "Then I have to go back to Heaven." Let the poor guy believe that his master was in Paradise. Danny had no idea if Regulus was there or not, but Kreacher didn't need to know. He needed comfort, closure.

"Yes, Master, Regulus," the house-elf croaked.

Danny slid out of the dream, leaving Kreacher and his master (or at least the Regulus who had manifested in the elf's head) to their talk. He glanced at the sleeping body and grinned.

Kreacher was smiling.

The halfa floated out of the cupboard. He made certain that the coast was clear before telling the Infi-map to take him to Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton.

Conveniently, Voldemort and his creepy soul-snake Nagini were alone and together. The serpent was resting with her head in the Dark Lord's lap. He patted her head, staring off into space and hissing. Thanks to the gift of tongues, Danny understood exactly what Voldemort was saying: "-would feed them to you, but I must be cautious about killing purebloods. Goyle is a worthless moron, but his blood-"

The invisible Danny punched Voldemort in the face. The Dark Lord's head snapped back, bouncing against his chair. Blood spurted from his nose, trickled from the sides of his mouth.

"Master?" Nagini cried. Then she froze, eyes going green. An ugly grayish mist rose from her body, dispersing within moments. The serpent collapsed, unconscious.

"Blegh." Danny wished he'd thought to bring breath mints. Anything would be better than the disgusting taste Horcruxes left in his mouth. "That's so gross." The halfa spat a couple times before stealing Voldemort's wand. "Okay, what's the spell again?" His face scrunched in concentration. Then he grinned. "Oh yeah!" Five seconds later, Voldemort was tied tighter than a calf at a rodeo. "Ha!" Danny gloated. "Now who's not competent with a wand?"

Nagini stirred. Danny shot her with a Stunning Spell before hitting Voldemort with another. No need for them to wake up before he finished killing the Horcruxes.

"I probably shouldn't bring you guys with me when I go back to Hogwarts," Danny grumbled. He grabbed them and deposited them on the roof. "There's only one thing missing…." Giggling, the halfa pulled out a pen and began to write. Hero or not, he was still a teenage boy. "There. That oughtta do it." He looked over his handiwork and giggled.

Voldemort looked good in his new ink mustache, devil horns, and the proclamation written across his forehead that CHUCK NORRIS WAS HERE!

Still laughing, Danny flew to his next destination: the old Gaunt shack. He left Voldemort and Nagini on the roof- no need for them to get in the way of his next de-Horcruxification mission.

Entering the ring was different than forcing out the other Horcruxes. It was a lot easier, for one thing, and not just because Danny had more experience. No, the ring wasn't quite alive, but it certainly possessed a strange form of awareness, of purpose. It knew that it wasn't meant to shackle a man's soul to the mortal plane, and it wanted the Horcrux gone.

So did Danny. He stretched inside the ring, twisted, forced it out. Without a vessel, the soul fragment dispersed.

The halfa stretched. Froze.

He could sense another type of magic, vaguely familiar, not the kind of thing he wanted to trifle with. It was powerful, and his every instinct screamed that it belonged to an enemy.

He trusted his instincts enough not to identify that magic source. If his seventh sense said it was bad news, then it was bad news, probably some nasty beastie that Voldemort had summoned to defend his ring. A ghost, perhaps- the magic felt like death- who had been bound by the stone's power. Whatever. This was an enemy, and that was enough. No further identification was necessary.

Danny spun on his heel and loosed an ecto-blast larger than he was. The source of the strange magic shifted. Now that he had more time to analyze it, he realized that the power felt rather like the ring- or, to be more precise, like the stone on the ring, the true source of its strength.

The smoke cleared, and Danny gasped.

* * *

><p>"Cockroach Clusters! Licorice! Drooble's Best Bubble Gum!" Harry turned to his friends, face twisted with desperation. "Can you think of any other candies?"<p>

"Lemon drop?" Ron suggested. "He likes lemon drops, right?"

"A Muggle kind," Hermione muttered. "Snickers, Hershey's kisses, Nerds, Milky Ways-"

"What is going on here?"

The students spun, blurted out the first words they thought of.

"Professor McGonagall! We need-"

"He's mental, I tell you, and now he's going to ki-"

"What's the password? For Merlin's sake, tell-"

"-to speak with Professor Dumbledore _now-_"

"-ll an entire family for You-Know-"

"-the password!"

The Animagus blinked. "Cheesecake."

The gargoyles swung open. The students raced up the steps. McGonagall followed, though a bit slower than her much younger pupils. She entered the office just as Harry cried out, "He's not here!" The boy nearly swore but remembered his teacher's presence just in time. He turned to her, eyes wide and panic-stricken. "It's a matter of life and death. We need to speak with Dumbledore _now._"

Minerva remembered a day over three years ago, when these same students had come to her with a warning. She hadn't listened then, and because of her, Harry had ended up in the Hospital Wing with horrendous burns and a coma. Ron too had been injured, bludgeoned by her own chess set. Only Hermione had escaped unharmed, and even she had been traumatized, terrified that her friend would never wake up.

Let it never be said that Minerva McGonagall had not learned her lesson.

She drew her wand, cast a Patronus. The silvery cat shot down the staircase. "What's going on?" she demanded. "You answer me, Miss Granger, and make it as clear and concise as possible."

"We found evidence that Danny Fenton is planning to murder an entire family," she answered. "Look at this." She thrust the letter- the evidence- into her teacher's trembling hand.

McGonagall read. Her face drained of color, leaving her the same shade as Nearly-Headless Nick. Without a word, she tried to cast another Patronus. The attempt failed; she was too unhappy. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to think of better times, of talented students and loyal friends. A second cat sprinted down the stairs. "I've informed Pomona," she said. "If he's in their Common Room-"

"Of course!" Harry opened the Marauder's Map. Part of him was a bit reluctant to show it to a professor, but he quashed that reluctance. This was to save lives. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good. Or Fenton is, at least."

McGonagall didn't ask. "You can find him with that?"

"If he's in the school, yes."

His Head of House nodded, turned to the portraits. Most of them had been sleeping- they did that quite a bit- so she lifted her fingers to her lips and blew. Her whistle pierced the air, startling the portraits awake.

"What was that for?" one whined.

"I need you to organize a search party," she snapped.

"Don't," Harry advised. "He's not in Hogwarts- the map would tell me."

Minerva nodded. "Never mind then. Tell me, do any of you have connections with the Horcrux family?"

Most of the portraits shook their heads, befuddled. Phineas Nigellus, though, let out a violent expletive. "How _dare_ you!" he raged. "I have nothing to do with those foul abominations!" He spat, the spittle disappearing behind his portrait's frame. The man was white with rage, his cheeks scarlet. He tried to say something more, but fury had robbed him of speech.

"What is going on?"

All eyes turned to Dumbledore, who was standing tall in the doorway of his office.

Harry lunged forward, nearly colliding with his headmaster. "You have to find Fenton," he cried. "He's planning to murder the Horcruxes!"

"_What?_"

Dumbledore was known for his calm, his serenity. He was old and intelligent enough that not much surprised him, and experienced enough that he could pretend not to be surprised even when he was. He wasn't accustomed to people taking him off guard.

The news that Danny Fenton, a Muggle-born, untrained American who had arrived less than a week ago, somehow knew about Voldemort's Horcruxes (there was no way that multiple Horcruxes could belong to anyone else) triggered a reaction that few people had ever seen in the old man. His eyes bulged, jaw sagging as the muscles holding it up slackened. His knees went weak; he grabbed at Harry's shoulders to remain upright. His face drained of color as his heart skipped several beats.

"Professor?" Harry had expected a reaction, but not one so extreme. Perhaps the headmaster was friends with the Horcruxes?

"Do you know where they are?" Hermione demanded.

That snapped Dumbledore out of his stupor. Well, sort of. "I don't know," he gasped, voice strained with terror. "I have suspicions for the one, but only suspicions."

"Suspicions will have to be enough," McGonagall snapped. "Fawkes!"

The phoenix appeared in a burst of flame. He took in the sight: befuddled and enraged portraits, Dumbledore about to fall over, three terrified students, and the Deputy Headmistress channeling her inner lioness.

The headmaster forced his features into a mask of calm, but his voice still shook as he said, "Fawkes, old friend, I need you to take me the old Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton. Stay, Minerva."

The Scotswoman shook her head. "Absolutely not," she snapped. "Not when you're in a state like this."

"We'll come too," Harry volunteered.

"No!" Dumbledore cried. Bad enough that one student was going up against Voldemort's defenses by himself (especially since that student's inevitable death would cause an equally inevitable international incident). But Harry Potter, the only one who could defeat Voldemort, dying now? "Fawkes, bring me there now!" McGonagall lunged forward, grabbed at the bird's feathers, but she was too late.

Fire flared, singeing his bones.

He landed less gracefully than usual, still stunned by the revelation of the Fenton boy's knowledge (who had told him? And how did that person know? And how was that person connected to Fenton? So many questions. Definitely enough to merit an investigation under Veritaserum).

He had taken only a step towards the cabin when its wall exploded in a blaze of green.

* * *

><p>Danny's heart constricted. "No," he whimpered. He dropped to his knees beside Dumbledore's body. "No, no, no."<p>

He'd hurt, perhaps killed, a human being. No. Never mind that he'd been justified in shooting- why the heck did Dumbledore have magic so similar to that of Voldemort's Horcrux anyways? Never mind that he'd thought this was a ghost (really? Then why didn't it set off your ghost sense, genius?) All that mattered was that a person was hurt.

Danny felt for the older man's pulse. It was still there, a bit faster than it should be but strong and steady. The tension drained from his shoulders.

He wasn't quite certain why Dumbledore was unconscious. Oh, wait, he did know- there was a bleeding gash on the headmaster's head. The neat-looking bird (some part of Danny's scattered mind identified it as a phoenix) lowered its own head to weep over its master's wound.

Great. He'd made a birdie cry. Nice going, Fenton-Phantom.

But weeping birds aside, what was he going to do? He had to get Dumbledore to a doctor of some kind. Make that a healer- Dumbledore was a wizard. Danny didn't want to think about how he might react to waking up in a Muggle hospital. Better to bring him somewhere else, like the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

Yeah. Go in, drop him off, make sure what's-her-name the nurse could take care of him. Then he'd kill the other Horcruxes and his stuff and run.

His decision made, Danny reverted to human form and drew the Infi-map. "Hogwarts Hospital Wing!"

* * *

><p>Minerva bit her tongue, barely stopping a curse from her youth. Instead, she rounded on the only being in the room who might know what was going on. "Who are the Horcruxes?" she demanded of Phineas Nigellus.<p>

"Not who," the former headmaster growled, "what."

"Very well. _What_ are the Horcruxes?"

The other portraits turned to their fellow, curious as kittens. "There are children present, you know," Phineas snapped.

"So?" Harry snapped. "We're the only ones who can save them!"

The painting flung up his hands in frustration. "Save them?" he sneered. "Why in the name of Merlin's nut sack would you want to _save_ them?"

"Language!" barked a stocky witch, brandishing her unusually thick wand.

"This is useless," Hermione hissed. "He's obviously not going to tell. Portraits don't have to obey anyone but the headmaster, and Dumbledore is gone."

"Then what's your plan?" Harry demanded.

Hermione placed a finger on the Marauder's Map. "Ask the source," she said simply. "Danny Fenton and Professor Dumbledore are back."

* * *

><p>Last chapter's rating on the Rue-the-day-o-meter: 6.17.<p>

Jeanette9a is a wonderful person. Why? Because she made fanart based off this fic, that's why! Here's the address (just remove the spaces): h t t art/Attitude-is-gratitude-303736933

The suggestion to free the dragon came from DragonLovingGirl6.

I'm sorry about the wait. I thought that once summer came, I'd have more spare time, but I was quite wrong. Summer is actually busier than the school year, which ought to be illegal but isn't. I apologize in advance for the longer waiting periods between updates.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: In which Danny explains (many times) that he is not a filthy murdering Death Eater**

"Hey nurse lady!"

Poppy Pomfrey blinked at the young man who was skidding to a halt beside her. Fenton's blue eyes were wide with anxiety, filled with fear. The nurse gave him a quick once-over but couldn't detect any injuries. "Yes?"

"The headmaster's hurt," Fenton explained.

Poppy's blood ran cold. "Take me to him," she demanded, grabbing the young Hufflepuff's arm.

"I already got him to the Hospital Wing and into a bed," Danny elaborated. "Then I came straight to you. I was shouting and stuff, but evidently you're here instead of, well, there."

"Tea break," she told him shortly. It was just typical that her only break of the afternoon would be interrupted like this.

Dumbledore's unconscious body lay atop the sheets. His wound had closed thanks to Fawkes's tears but he hadn't yet woken up, which made Danny worry that phoenix magic and ghost powers had some kind of adverse reaction. It would make sense- ghosts were immune to most forms of human magic, and phoenixes were immortal, which would further alienate them from the dead. The halfa just hoped that the headmaster woke up soon, or he'd have a lot of explaining to do.

…actually, he already had a lot of explaining to do.

Pomfrey went to work, feeling for her patient's pulse, touching his chest to find his breath rate. "What happened to him?" she demanded.

"He startled me. I kind of jabbed my wand at him and green light came out. He went flying and hit his head, but Fawkes took care of that. Then I brought him here as fast as I could."

It was almost true. Well, not really, but it was a good enough excuse for when Dumbledore did wake up and wanted to know what had happened.

Poppy's head snapped around. "_You _did this to Albus Dumbledore?"

Danny didn't answer. He dropped to the floor, rolled, narrowly avoiding the spell which Ron Weasley had aimed for his head. "Get him!" the redhead bellowed.

"_Reducto!" _

"_Stupefy!" _

"_Petrificus Totalis!" _

"What the _h-"_ A red curse whizzed past Danny's ear, cutting him off.

"What is going on!" shrieked Pomfrey.

Dumbledore sat up, blinked blearily at the chaos around him, but was still too far gone to do anything. All he could do was watch as three Gryffindors attempted to destroy the newest Hufflepuff. And, of course, the rather irate Hufflepuff was doing his best to return the favor.

Danny slid to a stop beside a (fortunately empty) bedpan. He hurled it at the trio. They tried to dodge but hadn't decided beforehand on a direction; Harry tripped over Ron as the redhead attempted to dive aside. Only Hermione escaped, but Danny had planned for that. A second bedpan hit her across the temple, rendering her unconscious.

Part of him felt guilty about that, but they were in the Hospital Wing with a healer right there. Hermione would be fine.

"HERMIONE!" the boys cried in tandem. Danny took advantage of their distraction to shoot his own Stunner at Harry. The boy tried to dodge, but the halfa's spell was too quick. Harry went down.

Ron was left alone, pushing himself up between the fallen bodies of his friends. He looked at his opponent- an opponent who had taken out Harry Potter and Hermione Granger in less than a minute- and saw no mercy in those eyes.

But the spell which hit him came from a completely unexpected source. Pomfrey bound him in ropes. The Gryffindor staggered, fell to his side. He couldn't believe it. Was she Imperiused, or was the school nurse a Death Eater too?

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" she shrieked. Sparks shot from the end of her wand, landing uncomfortably close to Ron's nose. He flinched away.

But, the redhead reasoned, if she's not Imperiused or a Death Eater, then Fenton's obviously pulled the wool over her eyes. Maybe if I make her see sense, then she'll help us! "Fenton's a Death Eater," he blurted. "And a murderer."

The sheer _huh?_ factor of the statement rendered Danny incapable of speech. His thoughts skittered about wildly as he tried to figure out how in the name of the Thirteen Ancients and the Sleeping King this idiot had gotten that idea. Key word: tried. He had absolutely no idea how in any and all of the worlds he could be mistaken for Voldemort's bootlicker or a killer, much less both at once.

Hey. Wait a second! They thought he was a murdering Death Eater!

"A _what_?" he demanded, recovering enough to speak. "You think I'm a _what?_"

"You heard me, Death Eater!"

Poppy glanced from one student to another. The honest confusion on Danny's face, combined with the fact that he'd brought the only man Lord Voldemort ever feared to a healer instead of the morgue, convinced her that he was telling the truth. The nurse's training took over. She dropped to her knees, felt Ron's forehead for a fever. None. Perhaps some kind of potion or a Confundus?

"Perhaps I can explain."

All eyes turned towards Albus Dumbledore, who had risen to a seat. His voice was a bit weaker than usual, but still clear and steady.

Much to Ron's (and Harry's and Hermione's; they had been hurriedly revived by Madame Pomfrey) surprise, Danny cringed. "Are you okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "I swear, I didn't mean to blast you. I just heard someone coming up and since-" Blue eyes narrowed. "Hey. What the heck were you doing there anyways?" The Observants had told him that Dumbledore didn't know the location of any Horcrux except the one in Harry's skull. He didn't even know Nagini's location, as the snake traveled around with her master all the time.

Now it was Dumbledore's turn to cringe. He recovered quickly, though, and retorted, "I could ask you the same question, Mr. Fenton."

Danny folded his arms. "Don't you _dare_ try and pull that righteous authority figure thing with me. I'm an American who's being held hostage in a wizarding world he doesn't like. I have no reason to help you guys at all, much less win your war for you."

The Gryffindors exchanged befuddled glances. It didn't sound like he was interested at all in _their_ war. So what _was_ he up to?

Blue eyes bored into blue. They held that position for a long moment. Then, face carefully blank, Dumbledore looked towards Poppy. The healer was frozen, too caught up in the moment's tension to even tend her patients. She jumped guiltily at his glance and began fussing over Hermione.

"You will have to excuse Daniel and me, Poppy. We have things to discuss in my office."

Danny snorted. "Nice try. I'm not going anywhere. And don't even think about trying to force me." He extracted the Elder Wand from his pocket, wiggled it around. "Look familiar?"

Dumbledore sank back down into his pillows.

"Only an idiot leaves his enemies armed. Besides, I didn't want you to Stun me in the back again." Not that the spell would work, of course, but he didn't want anyone to know that. He was suspicious enough as it was; if people realized that spells no longer worked on a supposedly ordinary teenager, they might start asking uncomfortable questions.

"Daniel-"

A terrible suspicion bubbled up in his chest. He'd been worried about someone intercepting his mail all along- wizards had no respect for privacy and would doubtless try to learn his escape plans from his letters home. That was why he'd acquired so many lemons from the house-elves. He'd thought that wizards would be too proud to imagine that their prey might have used a Muggle method of creating invisible ink.

It looked like he'd been wrong.

"You read my mail?" The halfa's voice was a low, deadly growl. It took all his self-control to keep his eyes blue. They wanted to blaze with green fury, to scald the headmaster where he sat.

"I did not."

He was being honest- Danny had enough experience lying to know when someone else was pulling the wool over his eyes- but he also wasn't telling the whole story.

That was when McGonagall, sweating and panting, raced into the room. Her wand was at the ready. The woman took in her three fallen students, the bedridden Dumbledore, Poppy's confusion, and Fawkes's presence.

Danny groaned as yet _another_ person started firing curses at him.

Fawkes shrieked, lunging at the startled witch. The phoenix's feathers blazed with unearthly flame. The bird circled the room once before landing firmly on Danny's shoulders. It shot the others a baleful glare, daring them to comment on his choice of perch. Then he began to croon, nuzzling Danny's neck and cheek. The halfa patted his back, smiling. It looked like the birdie had forgiven him for making him cry.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly, "it seems that there has been a grave misunderstanding."

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded. "He wants to kill the Horcruxes. It's as simple as that!"

Danny glared. "I could expect that stupidity out of your friends, but you have one in your freaking _head!_ You know exactly why they need to die."

"You're going to kill Harry?" Hermione squeaked. She shoved Pomfrey (who had frozen up once again) aside, felt around for her wand. She didn't find it, but that didn't stop her from crouching in a defensive position.

"Of course not!" Danny yelled. "I just want to get the stinking _piece of Voldemort's soul_ out of his _skull!"_

Dead silence. If anyone was still breathing after that enraged, stunning outburst, not even a halfa's enhanced hearing could pick it up.

Harry was the first to recover. "What are you talking about?" His voice was tiny, young, like the voice of a small boy who didn't understand why Grandma wasn't waking up.

Danny went white. "You didn't know?" he yelped. "You didn't know there was an extra piece of soul in your head?"

One of Harry's hands touched his scar. He, too, was white as Hedwig's feathers, pale as Phantom's hair. "That can't be true," he whispered. "Professor Dumbledore would have told me." He turned to his mentor, his guide, his role model, but the headmaster looked away. His hand trembled, batting his hair back and forth, never quite covering the famous scar. The soul fragment, the Horcrux.

The horrified hero stared at Dumbledore. "But you _knew._" Danny couldn't believe it. It was one thing to keep secrets that would keep you from getting dissected (or worse, mobbed constantly by fan girls). It was quite another not to mention to a teenager that oh, by the way, there's a part of your mortal enemy's _immortal soul_ with a prime piece of real estate in your cranium. "You knew and didn't tell him?"

"Albus, is this true?" McGonagall was ready to faint. Her lips had gone very thin.

"Minerva…."

Fawkes sang a single disapproving note. He ruffled his feathers, dug his talons more firmly into Danny's shoulders. It was clear whose side he had chosen.

The halfa looked from one wizard to the next. His gaze circumvented the room, focusing briefly on Pomfrey's shock, McGonagall's steadily mounting rage, the children's horror. Then he closed his eyes. Shoulders tense, cords in his neck bulging, he ground out, "Look. I know a way to kill the Horcruxes without killing the host. Here's my proof." He drew out the ring and cup. Dumbledore jerked forward, unable to stop himself from gawking at the Resurrection Stone, but no one noticed. "These used to be Horcruxes. I'll get yours out too, Harry, and then I'll leave. You'll never have to hear from me ever again. Deal?"

Harry glanced at the still-gaping Dumbledore before tearing his gaze away. Dumbledore had no right to be involved in this decision. The headmaster had known- he had _known!_- but he hadn't done anything. Besides, it was his head, his problem. "Deal."

Danny nodded. "Okay, I'll need some bee larvae and-"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "We will certainly accept the removal of Harry's Horcrux, but you will certainly not be leaving us afterwards. You need to inform us where you acquired your information and… abilities."

A scowl. "The only thing I need to tell you is that I can and will get rid of the Horcruxes without killing Harry." A pause. "Oh, and you might want to send someone to Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. I left Voldemort tied up on the roof there. If he asks, just say that Chuck Norris sent you."

Pomfrey choked.

"What? Haven't you heard a Chuck Norris joke before?" Danny snorted. Of course not. She was a witch. "But I'm serious. Send someone to get Voldemort before one of his followers finds him. And the snake. The snake is a Horcrux too." He didn't mention the locket. That was for Kreacher to deal with. "Now come on, Harry. Let's find Randall and get rid of that Horcrux. Then I'm out of here."

Dumbledore pushed himself out of bed, drew himself to his full height. "I told you, Mr. Fenton, that you will _not_ be leaving."

Danny snorted again, twirled the Elder Wand between his fingers.

"Don't go with him, Harry," Ron muttered. "We can't trust him." The redhead frowned. "And what do you need that glowing monster for?"

"If Randall overshadows Harry for just a few seconds, he can force the Horcrux out of his head. Then it'll dissipate. Problem solved, everybody's happy."

"Mr. Fenton-"

"What's going on?" Pomona Sprout burst into the room. She had received two Patroni from Minerva in less than two hours. Each was about Danny Fenton getting up to… she wasn't sure what, but it definitely wasn't good.

"Are you going to shoot at me too?" the halfa groaned. He (and almost everyone in the room) knew he could take Sprout out with ease, but he really didn't want to bother. He might get shot at every day, but that didn't mean he liked it.

"Mr. Fenton has brought some…very disturbing… information to light." McGonagall glared at Dumbledore.

The headmaster pursed his lips. "I had my reasons for keeping that undisclosed," he declared. "And you, Mr. Fenton, are hardly one to lecture me on the morality of keeping secrets."

"Actually, I am. There's a difference between 'keeping secrets that are none of your business away from nosy wizards' and 'withholding vital information about a piece of Voldemort hanging out inside someone's freaking soul.' Speaking of which…. Professor Sprout, would you mind magic-ing yourself to a place called Little Hangleton? Voldem-

"I would like to learn what's going on, first."

"Fair enough." Danny gave Fawkes one last stroke before launching himself onto a hospital bed and impromptu stage. The phoenix fluttered slightly, adjusting his balance, before returning his attention to the halfa. "Here's what happened. I was kidnapped and dragged outside of my home country, which is kind of the stuff that really shouldn't happen. Then your boss here tags me like some kind of cow and gives a hat access to my mind. Never mind that I don't want the hat in my mind or that tracking devices should only be used on criminals and errant pets. No, it's totally appropriate to do that to a teenager who isn't even one of your subjects.

"But even though I don't want to be here, I hear about your Voldemort problem. I kind of like my dorm mates but Voldie doesn't, so I decide to take care of it by destroying the objects which tie him to the mortal world. Then _he-_" Danny jutted his thumb at Dumbledore "-shows up when I'm in the middle of a nasty minefield of curses. I panic and blast him. Instead of leaving him and making a break for it like a _Death Eater-_" he shot Ron a filthy glare "-would do, I bring him back to the hospital wing, abandoning my make-Voldemort-mortal-again plan- not to mention the fruit loop himself- where I am immediately attacked by three students and a teacher. Again. Is assault _normal _for this school?"

Pomona's jaw hung limp.

"Oh, right. I almost forgot to mention that there's a piece of big bad evilness taking up space in Harry's skull which Ol' Twinkly has known about for years but hasn't even touched. Can't forget that." He nodded sagely.

"Is this… true, Albus?"

"The gist of the story is, yes, but he ignored my reasons for doing so." Dumbledore's jaw set.

"You… took on… You-Know-Who?" Sprout was ready to faint. "Sweet Merlin! Are you all right?"

Danny flushed, surprised by her sudden concern. "Yeah," he mumbled. "But I'll be more all right once the last two Horcruxes- they're the nasty soul anchors that kept him from dying last time- are destroyed and I can go home. Legally," he added, wagging a finger to cut off anyone's protest. "Offing a Dark Lord has _got _to count as 'competent with a wand,' just like winning the Triwizard thingy was for him."

"Schoolchildren should not be destroying these things," McGonagall chided.

"They shouldn't have any in their heads, either," Danny shot back. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you and Sprout pick up Voldemort and his snake from Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton- you got that? Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton. He's on the roof- and Harry, Randall and I can kill the last two evil soul vessels of immortality. Voldie will end up behind bars, and I'll be out of your hair forever. Sounds like a good plan, right?"

"If there really is one of those- wait. What's this about your monster?"

Danny blinked at him. "What monster?"

"The glowing ghost monster. What's this about you and me and the honey badger going off somewhere?"

"Didn't I say it? If Randall overshadows you for a couple of minutes, he can shove the Horcrux out."

Harry's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Overshadow. As in possess?"

"Well, yeah."

"As in fly into my body and make me do his bidding?"

"That sounds uncomfortably close to the Imperius Curse," Dumbledore noted sternly, leaning forward in his bed.

"And how were you planning on getting the Horcrux out of his head?" Danny crossed his arms. His eye twitched. "Assuming you even had a plan, it'd probably be something half-baked and stupid like 'have Harry walk up to the psycho and wait for Voldemort to murder him.'"

"No, no," Harry said quickly. He deliberately didn't look at Dumbledore's response to Danny's accusation. He didn't want to see it. Instead, he dragged them back on topic. "It's just- does it have to be the honey badger?"

Danny nodded. "He's the only Ghost Zone ghost in this castle." Technically true- Randall was the only _full_ Ghost Zone ghost in the castle. He might be helping Harry, but he sure as heck wasn't giving away all his secrets.

"But can't you get another one to do it?" Hermione demanded. Her eyes had gone very sharp, very intense.

"Like who?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Perhaps Danny Phantom?"

* * *

><p>AH! AH! Oh noes! Cliffhanger!<p>

With that in mind, I'm not going to have internet access again (after Friday is over, at least) until July 8. My family's going out of town. I figured it was better to post now so I could write over the vacation and hopefully get the next chapter up when I'm back, as opposed to letting this stay on my computer for the next week and a half.

Last chapter's RtD-o-meter: 7.09.

Note 1: A few people have commented that McGonagall should know about the Horcruxes. I disagree. There's no hint in the books that she knew, and Dumbledore was notorious for playing things close to the vest. He didn't tell Harry until his sixth year, and Harry (as we have covered extensively) has one in his head. He didn't even tell Harry until _after he was dead._ Why then would he tell McGonagall, a Transfiguration professor, who might have been his deputy in the school but wasn't overly important in the Order? The answer: he didn't, so she's clueless.

Note 2: No one pointed out that Harry, despite not having any O.W.L.s to his name, was almost expelled. My explanation: winning the Tournament automatically made him competent with a wand.

Note 3: Someone (I can't find the relevant PM- sorry!) asked me to request more HP/DP crossovers. Consider them requested. Any takers?

Note 4: No, I will not explain Hermione's comment in PMs. You have to wait for the next chapter.

Happy Fourth!

-Corona


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: In which Hermione explains her cryptic statement**

Danny couldn't breathe.

Did she know? How? He hadn't slipped up that badly, had he? He couldn't have. So _did _she know?

The halfa's heart skipped a beat, then accelerated like a racecar at the sound of "Go!" His brain worked frantically, neurons firing, considering and discarding excuses with the speed and efficiency of a supercomputer.

He knew how wizards treated half-humans. He had seen how they treated their heroes just by watching Harry. He knew this only secondhand, and had no desire to relearn it from experience.

If Hermione hadn't continued (the slight pause that felt like it had lasted an eternity was just to inhale, not the conclusion of her statement), there was no telling what Danny might have done. He probably would have lied his tongue off, woven a web of untruth to catch himself. But maybe, just maybe, he would have panicked, fled, and given them another clue to the truth. A truth which, thank the Ancients, they still hadn't discovered.

"It makes sense," Hermione explained to the fullings in the room. "He had to learn about the Horcruxes from somewhere, and he's from the ghost capital of the world. Not to mention that everything else would make sense- his mention of ghosts in the first letter home, why he kept the Sorting Hat out of his mind, that honey badger of his, his alliance with Peeves- even how he hid from Professor Dumbledore for so long. He obviously has some kind of connection with ghosts, and since Danny Phantom is the only one that seems pro-human, he is the obvious choice."

She didn't know. Danny's heart slowed. His mind stilled. One eyebrow arched. "I thought I was a murdering Death Eater?"

Sprout gave him a very, very strange look.

Hermione reddened but didn't back down.

"Oh, I get it," Danny exclaimed in mock surprise, cutting off the rest of the Gryffindor's explanation. "I'm obviously Voldemort's emissary to the evil ghosties of Amity, bent on recruiting them for an army of doom that will _clearly_ be led by a world-renowned superhero. Yeah, that makes perfect sense, especially since I'm a sixteen-year-old Muggle-born who hadn't even heard about Voldemort until, like, yesterday." He nodded sagely. "Wow, you've foiled my evil plot."

Rather than drowning in sarcasm (which Danny was laying on rather thick), Hermione persevered. "If the ghosts didn't tell you, where did you learn about the Horcruxes?"

"News flash: the world does not revolve around British wizards. Ghosts don't spend all their time stalking you people. Why would they know about the Horcruxes anyway? But," he shrugged, "I suppose that if you really, really stretched the definition of 'involved with ghosts,' then you'd kind of be right. My parents are ghost _hunters_, which totally explains why I'm in cahoots with them. They've invented a lot of gadgets that actually work here at Hogwarts."

"Muggle technology doesn't work here," Dumbledore protested.

"Electrical and battery-powered devices don't work here," Danny corrected. "Ecto-tech follows a completely different set of rules. Someone cast a Summoning Spell for the Boo-merang and I'll show you what I mean."

"I would," Albus retorted, "but you seem to have stolen my wand."

Harry drew his own wand. "_Accio."_

"While we are waiting," said McGonagall, "perhaps you could explain how your parents' devices let you find the Horcruxes."

"They have a bunch of satellite-powered computer charts back home," Danny explained. At the wizards' blank looks (Hermione and Harry were the only exceptions, as they still had one foot in the Muggle world), he explained, "They have machines that have been picking up a bunch of weird signals from places all over Britain. They were trying to chart ghosts around the world, but these things obviously weren't ghosts, so we did a bit a research and figured out that they were Horcruxes. They actually found that out after I was gone, so they sent Sir Randall with a letter explaining everything."

He was taking a risk there, and he knew it. Wizards could teleport. If they wanted to, they could go over to Amity Park and ask the Fenton parents. Danny could overshadow them, of course, to preserve his story, but only if he knew Dumbledore (or whoever) was heading overseas. If they went without notifying him, which was all too likely, Jack and Maddie would spill the beans.

The Boo-merang arrived, distracting everyone except Danny. The halfa scrutinized their faces, searched for signs of disbelief. Everyone seemed a bit skeptical, but no one except Hermione was chomping at the bit, and even she considered the machine's arrival more important than whatever she had to say.

"Okay." Danny walked to the other side of the room. "Harry, could you tell that thing to find Danny?"

Harry looked doubtfully at the metallic boomerang in his hand but obediently said, "Find Danny."

The Boo-merang leapt out of his hands, whizzing across the room and nearly hitting Danny in the head. Fortunately, the halfa had a lot of experience with his parents' devices. He caught it with a grin.

"Is that how you found the Horcruxes?" Hermione asked, her earlier statement forgotten.

Danny shrugged. "Like I said, my parents have those global trackers-"

"Yes, but unless they secretly belong to the military, they can't have gotten anything too specific from their global chart," she argued. "You would have needed help with pinpointing their locations." She strode across the room, took the Boo-merang from Danny's hands. "Find a Horcrux!"

The Boo-merang beaned Harry smack dab in the scar.

Huh. Didn't know that would happen. But Danny pretended that he had. The hero scowled, folded his arms. "Can't I keep any secrets from you people?" he muttered.

The Boo-merang hit Harry again. Ron grabbed it. It strained against his hold, wanting to find its target, but the redhead kept it captive.

"Now that we have established the source of my knowledge," Danny sighed, praying that no one would ask how he'd gotten past the curses surrounding the Horcruxes or disarmed Dumbledore, or why he'd mentioned ghosts in his first letter home (which had apparently also been hijacked), "I really think that Harry and I should find the Overlord of Hufflepuff, remove the Horcrux, and then kill the other one that's somewhere in the castle. The Boo-merang can find them both. Um, Randall and the second Horcrux, that is."

"As soon as it stops fixating on Harry," Ron growled.

Danny considered a moment before explaining, "Off button's in the center."

"What's an off button?"

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione muttered. She flicked the switch. "An off button turns things off."

"Oh," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Does it have to be the honey badger?" Harry asked. He supposed that Randall was all right enough in his own way, but he really, really didn't want the creature in his head. He'd almost rather keep Voldemort's soul fragment.

"Such a thing is uncomfortably close to an Unforgivable Curse," Dumbledore chided. "Do your parents have any inventions that might do the same?"

Danny could have laughed with relief. Dumbledore believed him- or, if he didn't, he was pretending otherwise, thereby convincing everyone else in the room that the Fenton parents were behind his mysterious knowledge. Or he hoped Dumbledore had convinced everyone else- their trust in him had been sorely shaken, and they might not take his conclusions as Gospel truth anymore. But this time, at least, they consented to believe.

"Daniel?" Dumbledore's voice cut into his thoughts.

The halfa started. "Wha? Oh, yeah. Devices. Um…." He ran through an inventory in his head. "The Fenton Catcher!"

Blank stares all around.

"It's like a giant dream catcher," he explained. "They designed it to force ghosts who were overshadowing people out of their hosts. I don't know if it'll work on a Horcrux, but the Boo-merang did." He turned to Fawkes, who was still perched on his shoulder. "Think you can take me to Amity Park? I can grab the Catcher and-"

"Absolutely not." Dumbledore pushed himself up out of bed, gazed sternly at the unimpressed halfa. "As headmaster of Hogwarts, I cannot allow you to escape. Speaking of which…. Minerva, Pomona, he somehow managed to sever the enchantment binding him to Hogwarts. Little Hangleton is much further away than he should have been able to go. One of you, please recast the spell. The other may reclaim my wand."

The women hesitated. On the one hand, Dumbledore was right. Danny was probably just trying to escape. On the other…. Their boss hadn't told them about the Horcruxes. They'd known about the binding, yes, but not the Horcruxes in one of their students, a child of Minerva's House.

Danny bristled. "What, you think I'm going to split the second I get there? I won't. You have my word that I won't go home until the Horcruxes are destroyed." He froze. "Ah, crud."

He had just made a promise. And he always kept his promises.

"Crap crap crap."

Minerva frowned, but, as Danny wasn't actually swearing, she let it be.

"I will write an owl to your parents," Dumbledore announced. His voice would allow no argument, no second-guessing.

Danny argued anyways. "You can teleport. Pop over there, as them to borrow the stupid machine, and pop right back. Problem solved."

"He… does have a point," Hermione admitted grudgingly. She had been forced to acknowledge that no, Danny wasn't a Death Eater- but she still didn't like the boy who had stirred the teachers into a frenzy.

Dumbledore shot Danny a frosty glare, extremely displeased with the young man who had questioned his authority again and again. Danny's gaze was equally frosty, filled with the ice power that was his.

Tension rose.

Harry broke it. "These Muggles know you, though. Right, Professor? If you and I go there- it should still be early afternoon for them, the perfect time to visit- then I can get this thing out of my head now." With sudden bitterness, he added, "As opposed to whenever you had originally planned to get it out."

Albus winced. "Very well," he allowed. "My wand, Mr. Fenton."

But he knew, even as the halfa warily handed it over, that the wand was no longer his. He had been defeated by a blast of green light, by an unknown curse that was probably (but not certainly) accidental magic. The Elder Wand respected power most of all.

Contrary to popular belief, though, power was not all it held in esteem. It would never betray its true master- a position currently held by Daniel Fenton- but it would still whisper certain secrets to its old lord. Dumbledore could sense the wand's contentment, its glee to be held by one so mighty and young, a legend already with the best yet to come.

It hadn't been half so happy when Albus himself claimed it from Gellert.

Dumbledore hid another wince. "Before you leave, Mr. Fenton," he suggested, "I would like to train you in dueling. I am still respected enough to declare you competent with a wand." There. He could easily defeat an unskilled youth, even if he had to use his old wand for the task. Then the Deathstick would be his once again, not the property of this unknown, angry, potentially untrustworthy child.

"Thanks but no thanks," Danny snapped. "I got through the curses around the Horcruxes, didn't I? Not to mention getting rid of your curse- it's amazing how quickly I found those spell books; I'd almost suspect that Madame Pince wants me gone- and escaping Hogwarts under your very nose. If they hadn't been illegally reading my mail, you wouldn't have noticed I was gone until tomorrow morning. I think that makes me competent with a wand."

The headmaster's lips thinned but he didn't pursue the matter. He could get a written order from Daniel's parents while he was visiting them. They must want their child to learn dueling- they had sent him here to learn new ghost-hunting techniques. If he could convince them that dueling was essential for a ghost hunter… yes, that would work very well.

"Fawkes," he called.

The phoenix crooned his goodbye to Danny, rubbed his face against the halfa's cheek. The hero softened. "Bye, _bennu,_" he said quietly, stroking the bird's back. Then Fawkes fluttered onto his master's shoulder.

Danny closed his eyes. Ignoring the voice which screamed he was breaking his promise, he leaned against a wall. A duplicate in human form phased into the wall, intangible but not invisible. Danny wasn't yet skilled enough to create an invisible duplicate, though he dearly wished he was. Still, the copy vanished from sight the second he was fully separate from his original. Rings of light flared and separated, and Danny Phantom crept back into the Hospital Wing.

Fawkes stared right at the invisible ghost, chirped a greeting. Both Dannys raised an eyebrow. He hadn't known that phoenixes could see through a ghost's invisibility. But, as Fawkes wasn't about to tell anyone, Phantom simply nodded and placed his gloved hand on the bird's back.

He was _not_ breaking his promise. He technically wasn't going home to stay, just to visit. Besides, the original copy, the Fenton half, was still in Britain. And anyways, the two remaining Horcruxes would be gone in just a few minutes. As long as the Fenton half remained at Hogwarts, he would technically keep his word.

Technically.

Fenton groaned. He might not be breaking his promise, but he was certainly bending it.

Harry, Dumbledore, Fawkes, and the invisible hitchhiker vanished in a flash of flame. Fenton wrinkled his nose at the scent of fire but didn't comment. Instead, he grumbled, "Come on. Let's go find Randall and the other Horcrux. And can one of you ladies _please_ go to Little Hangleton and pick up Voldemort?"

Ron and the women flinched at the mention of that name. Danny sighed. "Fine. I'll go after we kill this last Horcrux."

"Actually," McGonagall suggested, regaining her composure, "I believe we should send Severus." She drew her wand. Yet another Patronus burst from its tip, charging through the halls to deliver its message.

Danny went white. "But how do you know he's on our side?"

Sprout sighed. "Always the skeptic, aren't you."

"That's not much of an answer," he pointed out.

"Albus has always trusted Severus," McGonagall answered.

"…Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes," she growled. "It is. Albus has obviously… made some mistakes… with his handling of the Horcrux issue, but he _is _a very wise man."

"Five bucks says that when Snape shows up at the manor, he'll 'discover' that Voldemort and his snake have already escaped," Danny muttered.

Ron nodded. Then, realizing that he'd agreed with his enemy (though Danny hadn't seen him), he scowled. "Find the Horcrux," he ordered the Boo-merang, hurtling it into the air with rather more force than was necessary.

It was late enough that no one except the portraits, a couple ghosts (including Randall, who followed them out of curiosity), and a flustered-looking boyfriend-and-girlfriend combo noticed two Heads of House, three students, and the school nurse following a flying metal boomerang. Those who did notice also noticed the expression on McGonagall's face and decided not to ask.

The machine halted in front of a tapestry in which an odd, dumpy man in garish green robes waved his wand like a conductor's baton. A trio of trolls, all clad in frilly pink tutus, reluctantly moved their ungainly bodies in what was clearly supposed to be a dance. Then the Boo-merang began pounding against the wall opposite them. The trolls grabbed their clubs and swatted in the direction of the obnoxious device, snarling with rage. Their instructor shrieked and shouted and waved his arms, but two of the trolls ignored him. The third threw his club at the green-clad wizard, who fled with a terrified cry.

"Now what?" Ron asked. "There's no door."

"An illusion?" Hermione suggested. She dropped to her knees, felt along the edge of the wall for a crack.

Randall's nose twitched. With a growl of impatience, he phased through the wall. Five seconds later, the wall broke down.

Hermione yelped, covered her head with her arms. Debris rained down, covering her with dust. She choked, coughed.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" Pomfrey demanded, kneeling down beside her.

"Fine," the girl choked. "Just a bit thirsty, but I'll manage. I want to see this thing destroyed too."

Pomfrey murmured a couple of healing charms before nodding her permission.

The Boo-merang soared through the hole and out of sight. Danny groaned. "I hate it when it does that."

Two _reducto_s later, the rest of the door was revealed. Wands at the ready, the adults entered a room filled with old, dusty artifacts: books by the dozen, candles, burned-out fireworks, unused Dungbombs. Everything under the sun had found its way to the hidden room of hidden things. Everything except the diadem they were looking for.

Danny glanced at the many aisles, each of which extended dozens if not hundreds of feet into the darkness, and groaned. "I hate it when we lose the Boo-merang. It doesn't return on command."

"So we need to listen for the sound of it banging against the Horcrux," Hermione pointed out.

McGonagall shifted into her feline form, ears pricking. Randall landed beside the cat, sniffed. The cat hissed. Randall hissed back.

"Humor him, Minerva," Pomona ordered gently. The cat stiffened but allowed the honey badger to sniff at her.

"I think I hear it," Danny announced. The thudding was just barely audible even to his enhanced senses, but it was still there. "This way."

The cat's ears twitched. Danny realized belatedly that he had no right to hear what an animal could not and winced. Yet another weird thing about the crazy American. Joy. How had he not been busted already?

But McGonagall chose not to comment, possibly because cats could not do such things. She wanted to remain in her feline form, listen for anything that might sneak up on them.

Sure enough, the Boo-merang was at the end of that particular aisle, slamming against a tattered old headpiece. It had knocked the diadem to the floor and was hitting it with enough force to move it, creating a trail of relatively not-dusty floor space.

Danny focused on his wizzy-sense. Odd. He couldn't sense spells around the diadem. Maybe Voldemort had assumed that no one could find this room? Or maybe he thought that it was best to hide this Horcrux in plain sight. He neither knew nor cared.

Randall snarled. The Brits jumped, startled nearly out of their skins. Still hrawhrhring furiously, the honey badger charged. His form seemed to shrink for a moment as it was absorbed into the object's frame. Then he was gone.

The Horcrux screamed. Tar-colored mist rose from it, formed the shape of a foul, hideous face. It struggled to maintain its shape, to stay, but Randall jumped out of the diadem. He swatted a paw through the mist, fangs bared, ears flat against his skull. The mist loosed one last scream and vanished.

"Hraaaaaawwwwrrrh!" Randall roared. "Hrawawarhhh!"

"You tell 'em," Danny laughed. He scratched the honey badger's ear. "You deserve so much bacon for this."

Randall grinned. Bacon was good.

Danny picked up the Horcrux. "Looks like that's done," he announced cheerily. The wizards stared back at him, utterly gobsmacked. "Now it's just Harry and Voldemort himself." He closed his eyes. Input from the Phantom duplicate in Amity Park flowed into the Fenton half's brain.

Fenton's face fell.

Phantom and the others had arrived to find that FentonWorks's basement had been transformed into an arctic wasteland. Snow covered the inventions; the test tubes and walls were frosted with ice. In the center of the chaos floated a glowing blue man with dirty blond hair. The blue man's face lit up when he noticed the stunned wizards. "Will you be my friend?"

"Er…."

"If you can tell us where Jack and Maddie Fenton are, then we would be glad to befriend you," Dumbledore answered.

Klemper's face lit up. "I dunno where they are, but I can find them. Then we can all be friends!" He floated towards the nervous humans, arms splayed wide, doubtless preparing for a hug.

Phantom zoomed through the ceiling. "Didn't I introduce you to friends in the Ghost Zone?"

"Hi Phantom!" Klemper beamed.

"No, seriously. Why don't you play with your friends there?"

"You can never have too many friends," Klemper announced.

Danny grinned. "Okay, that's true, but don't you remember what happened last time you tried to hug a human?"

Klemper saddened. "Oh. Sorry, humans."

"Besides," Danny added, "I bet your buddies at the Far Frozen are worried about you."

"Oh no!"

"Exactly." The halfa nodded. "Why don't you make this ice and snow into a statue and bring it back to them? They love statues."

"Okey dokey!"

Klemper had forgotten that he couldn't carry all that snow and ice by himself, so Phantom helped. The one-and-one-half ghosts zipped into the newly thawed-out portal too quickly for Dumbledore and Harry, who had been waiting for the fat ghost to leave so they could talk with Phantom in private, to react.

"Wait!" Harry yelped, finally recovering from his stupor at finding not one but two ghosts in the Fentons' basement, but the portal doors had already closed. In frustration, he banged his fists against the metal doors. "You have to help me! _The dream catcher doesn't work anymore!_ _I don't want to be possessed by a honey badger!_"

But Phantom didn't hear. "Sam? Tucker?"

Tucker waved from his place in the Specter Speeder. "Hey, Danny, Klemper. I see that you escaped those wizards just as quickly as I predicted."

"Something like that," Danny sighed. "I'm just a duplicate. The real me is still at Pig School."

Klemper giggled. "Pig School."

The humans and half-human stared.

The ghost blushed. "I have to get back to my other friends, for they are worried about me. Bye-bye!"

"Don't go through the portal," Danny instructed once everyone had finished their goodbyes.

"Why not?"

"There are some wizards in my basement…." He spent the next few minutes explaining what had happened since Clockwork and the Observant arrived. Then he froze. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Do we want to know?"

"I just got news from the real me. He just met up with Dumbledore and Harry. They say that the Fenton Catcher got trashed in Klemper's snowstorm. And oh, yes, Harry refuses to be possessed by a honey badger- Randall doesn't seem to like that- so he says he and Dumbledore left a note asking them to fix the Fenton Catcher first."

"…Didn't you promise to not to go home until the Horcruxes were destroyed?"

Danny looked up, glared. "Why did you think I'm banging my head against the Specter Speeder?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

* * *

><p>"Chuck Norris," Voldemort snarled. The Dark Lord stalked up and down the hall, robes billowing like clouds of smog. "<em>Chuck Norris.<em>"

Snape watched, fear hidden behind an impassive mask. Wormtail cowered in the corner.

"Severus!"

"Yes, Lord?"

"Is there anyone of that name in the Order?"

"No, Lord."

"Anyone who might be using it as a pseudonym?"

"Not to my knowledge, Lord."

Wormtail swallowed. He didn't like drawing attention to himself, but he felt it had to be said. "I can think of one person, my Lord."

Voldemort whirled around, nostrils flaring. "Who?"

"Chuck is a common diminutive of Charles," the quaking servant explained. "And the Weasleys have a Squib cousin with the surname Norris."

"You think a Squib did this to me?"

"No, Lord! But there _is_ a Charles in the Weasley family. He is a powerful wizard- he works with dragons every day- and his family is involved with the Order though he himself is not." A flicker of doubt. "Is he, Severus?"

"Actually, he is, though not particularly active due to his location. I believe his current mission is to convince the Romanians that you have returned. I also believe that he chafes at his bonds, that he wishes to play a more active role in the battle against you."

Wormtail nodded. "Perhaps, Lord, Charles Weasley is acting under this name in order to keep his family from realizing that he is going against the Order's wishes by attacking you himself? And he would be using the false name to protect his family and to- er- he is an impudent young man, my Lord. D-doing this would fit what I remember of his personality and what Severus says."

Voldemort considered. "A dragon handler, you said?"

"Yes, Lord. And quite independent, though not as much as his brother William."

The Dark Lord smiled wickedly. A shudder wracked his minion's frame. "You have pleased me, Wormtail."

Oh, thank Merlin.

The man who had been Tom Marvolo Riddle turned to Severus Snape. "I have a task for you."

* * *

><p>You know, Danny, there are still a few holes in your explanation. They might believe you now, but who knows how they'll react once they've had time to digest everything.<p>

About Dumbledore: Of course he wants the Elder Wand back. Would you want a complete stranger who didn't particularly like you to possess a weapon of unimaginary power? From his perspective, he's trying to protect the wizarding world.

About Chuck Norris: Uh... yeah. That's totally what happened, Voldemort. Now what are you asking of Snape? Curse you, page breaks- you kept us (or the readers) from learning the Dark Lord's plot!

Sorry about not responding to reviews. I didn't have time before we let (prep takes time) so... no offense, but I probably WON'T respond to chapter 12's reviews now. I'll be busy enough answering chapter 13's.

Meter: 7.69

-Corona


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: In which Harry's fear of Randall is justified**

"I'm telling you," Danny grumbled, "Snape was lying."

"Daniel-"

"No, seriously. How convenient is it that Voldemort just happened to escape before Snape showed up?"

Dumbledore pushed his glasses up his nose. "Severus did not release Voldemort, Daniel."

"Prove it," the halfa snapped. "Put that mind-reading hat of yours to good use. If Snape's telling the truth, he won't have any reason to object."

"The Order of the Phoenix depends on trust," the headmaster explained. Or rather he tried to explain it.

Malcedema fluffed her feathers. The owl had turned up in the Great Hall that morning, hiding among the other birds until she had spotted her targets. Then, with a cry like a bomb dropping, she had dived, stealing Harry's glasses and hurtling them onto the floor. Unable to see, he had been an easy target for her wrath. Ron had been a bit more difficult, but she had kept both boys from eating. Malcedema was a smart bird- she knew that if she actually attacked the letter thieves, something bad would happen to her. But if she limited her revenge to destroying their morning repast, they couldn't even complain about her without being laughed at.

Danny ran a finger down her back. "And trust depends on people deserving it. The Germans trusted Hitler to lead them into a new age of prosperity. Same with Lenin and the Russians."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, a grandfather disappointed by his thickheaded grandson. "I see that you remain as ornery as ever," he noted.

"If Snape is on your side, have him blab Voldemort's location. I got him the first time. I can get him again."

"Daniel," the headmaster growled, rapidly losing patience, "Severus is too important to the war effort to risk like that."

The halfa shrugged. "If Voldemort's locked up, there won't be a war effort." Malcedema bobbed her head in agreement.

"You took Voldemort by surprise," Albus informed him. "He will not be taken off guard again."

Danny decided that he would never get through to this guy. It would be so much simpler to just follow Snape on his next Death Eater meeting and… oh, wait. Wizards could teleport. He couldn't track someone who had teleported. Hm… maybe the Boo-merang could track magical signatures? It had worked with Horcruxes….

Dumbledore decided to interpret his reluctant pupil's silence as agreement. "It seems that we have arrived, Mr. Fenton."

Lost in his speculation (But if the Boo-merang _does_ work, a metal Muggle thing will spoil the element of surprise. Voldemort might see me in my ghost form unless I stay invisible for the entire trip. Unless Voldemort's inside. Then the Boo-merang would just pound against the walls….), Danny nodded. (Voldemort probably will be inside. That guy is paler than I am, and I'm half-ghost. He obviously doesn't get out much.)

"Mr. Fenton."

"Hi, Mr. Ollivander," he replied absently.

The wand maker's eyes glittered with anticipation. He reminded Danny of a starving wolf on a leash, straining to pounce. Not the nicest comparison, but pretty accurate.

"Four wands," Ollivander said. His silvery eyes fixed on Danny's face. The halfa shifted uncomfortably. The craftsman was as creepy as ever. "Come. Let us begin." Solemnly, slowly, he led Danny and Dumbledore to the other side of the shop. Four polished wooden boxes lay on the counter. Unlike the rest of the shop, they were free of dust, clean and shining.

Ollivander stroked the second box to the left. "Four masterpieces," he breathed, reverent as a worshipper in his temple. "My greatest creations. I can die content now, having created wands such as these."

"Please don't."

The crafter smiled. "Of course, Mr. Fenton. Now… phoenix feather and ebony, eleven and a half inches, unyielding."

Danny accepted the wand with a small nod. He waved it. Nothing happened.

Ollivander was unsurprised. "Yes, I thought you wouldn't get that one. It's phoenix feather; you didn't do very well with them at all. Still, I had to make certain. Let's hope you're more compatible with dragons." He frowned slightly. "Speaking of which, there have been rumors of a break-in at Gringotts. The thief is supposed to have absconded with a dragon…."

Danny kept his face innocent. "Wonder how he did that."

The wand maker shrugged, dismissing it as unimportant. He picked up the second wand from the right, skipping over the second from the left, which he had been stroking earlier. "Dragon and laurel, twelve inches, firm."

Once again, nothing. Once again, Ollivander displayed no surprise. He just reached for the far right wand and handed it over to Danny, who waved it without a word.

"Dragon and pine, fourteen and a half inches, slightly more bendy than the others. But obviously not for you."

"Which you expected."

The wand maker smiled. "Indeed I did." Gently, reverently, he handed the last wand to Danny.

A shiver ran through the halfa's frame. His reaction did not go unnoticed. Ollivander's breathing quickened. "I thought that this would be the one. But before you open the box, let me tell you its story.

"The dragon whose heartstring powers this wand was a very unusual creature. Half Hebridean Black, half Antipodean Opaleye, it dwelt on the border between Europe and Asia. An entire town was under its protection; 'tis said that it drove off the Russian army singlehandedly, allowing its village to remain free from the Soviet oppression- at least for a time. It took no fewer than twenty-seven Dark wizards to slay the creature, and all died in the attempt. Even in death, this hybrid dragon managed to protect its town.

"The wood is a bit less strange, though I was torn between yew and ash. Yet whenever I tried to pair this core with another tree- even another tree of the same species- I found that I could not. Obviously the tree has its own story to tell, though I haven't the foggiest what that story might be. Tell me, Mr. Fenton. What do you know about yew wands?"

"…They're made of yew?"

A frown crossed Ollivander's face. Danny flushed.

"Yew is one of the rarer wand woods- and one of the most powerful. It is said that the master of a yew wand has power over life and death."

Danny's breath caught.

"Yes," Ollivander repeated. "And as such, they are notorious for attracting Dark wizards."

Danny froze, thinking of Dan.

"But what few people realize is that, while some Dark wizards do possess yew wands, they are not the wood's ideal master. The ideal master is a fierce protector of others, a guardian neither timid nor weak nor mediocre. A champion defender." The silver eyes bored into blue. "I do hope, Mr. Fenton, that you are worthy of this wand. Now give it a wave."

Danny gave it a wave.

Light burst from the tip of the yew wand, brilliant and pure. One jet of luminescence was sky blue, the blue of the hottest fire. The other was an acidic shade of green, deadly and powerful, the color of Avada Kedavra.

Life and death.

Tears leaked from Ollivander's eyes. "It is yours," he breathed. "Never before have I seen a wand and master more compatible."

"Oh," Danny mumbled. He lowered the wand- his wand. That would take some getting used to. He shifted awkwardly, keenly aware of Dumbledore's presence, of his watchful eyes. The headmaster had seen yet another strange, inexplicable thing connected to his newest pupil; only the Observants and Dumbledore himself knew what he thought of it. "Um… how much?"

Ollivander shook his head. His tears had not stopped, hadn't even slowed. "This is free, Mr. Fenton. I cannot sell you what is already yours."

"Oh." The halfa shifted. "Thank you, then."

The wand maker shook his head once again. "No, Mr. Fenton. It is I who should thank you, not just for giving me the opportunity to test myself, but for what this wand implies about your destiny. This is not the wand of a mediocre wizard. I have no doubt that you are meant for great things- perhaps greater than whatever you have already accomplished."

Danny stiffened. Dumbledore's eyes probed him, weighed him, judged him, hunted through him for a slip. Well, he had found one. "I haven't accomplished anything great yet, Mr. Ollivander. Unless you count what I did last night." Hopefully that would throw Dumbledore off the scent.

…Okay, maybe not. But he'd never know unless he tried.

The two older men exchanged their goodbyes: nice to see you again, good luck, have you been taking proper care of your wand? Danny glanced at the door.

Dumbledore would expect him to make a break for it. He hadn't recast his spells yet, wanting to wait until Danny had gotten back from Diagon Alley so he could put the halfa on a shorter leash. The curse wouldn't take, of course, but Dumbledore didn't know that.

But Danny didn't try to sneak away. He had given his word- inadvertently, yes, but he'd still promised. If that made Dumbledore suspicious… he was already suspicious. At least this example of weird behavior had a plausible explanation.

Soon the wizards had finished their conversation. Dumbledore took hold of Danny's arm. His grip was a bit too firm to be entirely comfortable, but the halfa had dealt with worse. His wince was entirely in anticipation of the upcoming teleportation.

Sure enough, the magical means of transport was just as unpleasant as he remembered it, as bad as the Infi-map or seasickness. Danny groaned.

Dumbledore, though, was used to Apparition. Keeping his firm grip on Danny's arm, he dragged the halfa inside the gates surrounding Hogwarts's grounds. The moment they were inside, he drew the Elder Wand. A quick spell later, and Daniel was bound once again. Or so he thought.

Hopefully this would let him kill two birds with one stone: binding Daniel to the law of the wizarding world and regaining possession of the Elder Wand.

Danny grumbled something about 'jerk wizards' before stalking off. The moment he was out of sight, Dumbledore's face fell. No, he had not regained mastery over the Deathstick.

Dumbledore sighed, feeling every last one of his many years. How was he supposed to keep the school safe if he didn't have control of the Elder Wand? He had certainly been a powerful wizard beforehand- no mediocre mage could come into its possession- but with Voldemort on the loose, he strongly desired the extra power boost. Not to mention that he still didn't like or trust Daniel. The boy's story had too many holes.

As he stood there, lost in thought, a first year Gryffindor climbed his staircase. The child passed Danny with a nod of respect- he was a C.U.R.E. member and one of Randall's adoring fans. Danny grinned back, lifted a hand in greeting. "Travis, right?"

"Yeah. But… Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really supposed to tell this only to Professor Dumbledore, but since you're here and since it kind of involves you- you know that Umbridge is from the Ministry, right? And she's really high-ranking there, I mean _really_ high-ranking. She's friends with the Minister and everything. But the point is, she called the Aurors in, so there are a bunch of Aurors in the Great Hall."

"What are they doing?"

"Nothing so far, just standing around looking scary and listening to her complain. But Umbridge sent me- I think it was because I'm so small, the smallest student she saw- to get the headmaster so the Aurors can talk to them."

"Did they say what they were here for?"

"I dunno. I mean, it's got to have something to do with C.U.R.E., but I think part of it has something to do with the Overlord too. She really doesn't like him."

Danny chuckled.

Travis chuckled too. "But like I said, part of it has to be because of you, and they probably wanted to talk to you anyways, since you're the one who brought Sir Randall to us. So I won't get into trouble with the Ministry for telling you, right?"

"Probably not. But," Danny winked, "the Ministry doesn't need to know. Thanks for telling me, Travis. Now I think you should tell Dumbledore before anyone gets suspicious of how long you've been gone."

"Okay then. But if you're gonna deal with them, can you hold the really good stuff until I get back?"

Travis's eyes were so big and sorrowful that Danny couldn't help but promise that yes, he'd try his hardest to save the best for last.

Unfortunately (or perhaps not), the best had already started.

It was the noise that alerted Danny to the fact that something was happening in the Great Hall, something slightly more interesting than a bunch of Aurors 'standing around and listening to Umbridge complain.' Shouts, crashes, and even a couple of explosions emanated from the room.

Danny flung open the doors and was greeted by a highly rewarding sight, one which half the school (or so it seemed. All he knew was that many students were watching) would cherish forevermore.

Severus Snape's eyes glowed golden, the same color as Randall's orbs. Drool dribbled from his mouth around the wand clenched between his teeth. Several feet away, a platoon of Aurors fired curses, goaded on by the red-faced Umbridge. Fortunately the students had enough sense to get out of their way, or the Aurors' spells might have had more effect. Just not on Randall.

"Bad time?"

Very slowly, as though Clockwork had intervened to make time stretch, Umbridge turned to face her least favorite student. Danny grinned, waved, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. Umbridge's face went even redder, which should not have been physically possible but apparently was. The veins in her neck bulged. Her face went past red, into purple. If Danny hadn't honestly worried that she might give herself a stroke, he wouldn't have been able to hold back his laughter.

"Hrawhrhrh!" bellowed the possessed Professor Snape. The wand he had been holding dropped from his mouth. Still growling, he dropped to all fours, picked it up with his teeth.

"Get him!" Umbridge screamed. Was it Danny's imagination, or was there foam spilling from the corner of her mouth?

"Which him?" one of the Aurors asked. His wand hung in his hand, almost ready to fall out.

Randall-as-Snape answered that question (though not in the way Dolores had intended) by pouncing on the Auror. The non-possessed wizard shrieked, a sound that would not have been out of place at a slumber party hosted by eleven-year-old girls.

"Gettimoffme-gettimoffme-gettim_off_me!"

"Hold still, Dawlish!"

"Gettimoff-"

"_Stupefy!_"

Dawlish's gettimoffmes ceased as he collapsed in an unconscious heap. Randall-as-Snape scurried backwards, deposited his two new chew toys, and smiled wickedly. Or rather, he bared his teeth in what humans interpreted as an evil smile but which other honey badgers would recognize as, well, a bearing of teeth.

"Should have brought popcorn," Danny muttered from his place by the wall.

Randall-as-Snape leapt into the air, floated several feet above the stunned, horrified Aurors.

"RUN AWAY!"

"Scatter! There's only one of him. There are lots of us! Scatter, scatter, scatter!"

The Aurors (and Umbridge) scattered, leaving the students behind. Danny snorted. Just one more example of Ministry incompetence.

"Hrph." Randall slid out of Snape's body. The professor collapsed, dark eyes rolling back up into his head. The honey badger, free of his stolen human body, lowered himself onto his haunches, scratched an itch behind his ear.

Harry Potter burst into the Great Hall. He took in the scene: Randall idly scratching himself, Danny leaning against the wall, Snape's unconscious body lying prone across the floor, the cheerily chatting students. His mouth worked silently, but he was unable to get anything out.

Hermione, who had followed him into the chamber, had a slightly more practical reaction. In a trembling voice, as though she feared to hear the answer, she squeaked, "What happened here?"

Randall huffed cheerily.

"My magnificent friend here just drove off six or seven Aurors by overshadowing Snape and going all honey badger on them."

"But he is a honey badger…." Ron didn't understand.

Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "And you wanted to let that thing inside my head?"

Randall stopped scratching himself. His golden eyes narrowed.

"He doesn't mean it that way," Danny hastened to explain. "He just doesn't know if his puny human brain can handle the awesomeness of pure, unadulterated honey badger without passing out like Snape here." A nod at the comatose Potions master.

Randall accepted that excuse as his due.

"You act like that thing can understand you," Ron muttered. The redhead hadn't lifted his gaze from the honey badger.

Randall growled.

"Who's to say he can't?" Danny asked.

That was when Dumbledore, followed closely by Travis, entered the room. "What is going on here?" he demanded.

Danny pointed. "They went that-a-way."

"That is not what I asked, Mr. Fenton. And what happened to Severus?"

"He threw a plate at the Overlord," one of the students explained. "So Randall ate Snape's lunch and then overshadowed him. Then Umbridge brought in some Aurors- I think they were looking for you and Danny and the Overlord- but then Snape- um, Sir Randall- um, he was Snape at the time, you know what I mean- they found him chewing his own wand and figured out that something was up." She nodded sagely. "So they started firing curses at him, but the curses didn't work 'cuz honey badgers are awesome like that."

"Did they realize that Severus was not quite himself?"

"Dunno," she admitted. "But you can ask them yourself. Like Danny said, they went that way."

"Leaving a roomful of students to be mauled by a potentially hostile and very, very capable honey badger," Danny added helpfully. "And let's keep in mind that these are fully-trained wizard cops, and we are but poor helpless children."

Dumbledore glanced at Randall, who was using Snape's prone form as the world's boniest, greasiest pillow and chewing on two wands. Annoyed, he cast a quick _enervate_ on the potions master. Snape's beady eyes fluttered open.

"Severus, please supervise things in the Great Hall. I must deal with Dolores and the Aur-"

"_Duck!_" Danny yelled, knocking Travis to the ground. A curse whizzed past, narrowly missing the tiny first year.

The Aurors had regrouped and returned with reinforcements. There had to be at least twenty of them swarming the Great Hall, firing like drunken Guys in White. Like the American idiots, their method of ghost hunting (for there could be no doubt that they were here for Randall) consisted of firing wildly into the midst of unprotected teenagers and hoping they hit. Also like the Guys in White, they didn't hit their target, just the wall. The closest was someone zapping Snape with some kind of pimple hex.

Randall yawned.

"Get onto the tables, now!" Danny barked. "They're aiming low- the higher we are, the better!" He half threw Travis onto the Gryffindor table, scooped up Dumbledore (who was maintaining a shield around himself and those nearest to him, which oddly did not contain Snape) and did the same. The warlock's shield faltered but quickly regained its strength. "Or better yet, get out of the hall!"

"Dolores!" Dumbledore cried. "You are being ridiculous! The Hogwarts Charter clearly states-"

"Hang the Charter!" she shrieked. "I'm a Ministry employee- I'm above the Charter!"

"Then you should also know," Dumbledore growled, "that it is the Charter which prevents me from striking back against a teacher. If you are above the Charter, though… then you are all above the Charter."

Dumbledore had spent the last few decades mostly behind desks, but he had gained his fearsome reputation for a reason. Simply put, he was tough.

"Fire away!" Danny cried, extracting his own wand. The students who hadn't fled (there were, surprisingly, quite a few of them) followed suit.

"But they're Ministry officials!" Hermione squawked.

"Fine. Aim only for Umbridge. Unless your aim is as bad as theirs. In that case, aim for everyone but Umbridge."

"I can get behind that," Ron announced cheerily. His Slug-Belching Curse hit the witch squarely between the eyes.

Between Dumbledore and the many students who were rather annoyed at being attacked, not to mention Sir Randall, the Aurors were quickly defeated. "Now then," the headmaster snapped. "Are you prepared to listen to reason, or must I forcibly escort you out of my school? It is, after all, _my _students whom you attacked."

"Where was this speech with the dementors?" Danny grumbled. Harry found himself nodding in agreement.

"Despite what you may have heard," he continued, "I have the situation here well under control."

"Does that mean that your hostage has been neutralized?"

Everyone, even the defeated Aurors, turned to view the speaker of that cynical, sarcastic question. The speaker was a steel-haired black woman in professional-looking navy robes. Her hands were folded in front of her chest, her eyes like brown diamonds.

And, most tellingly of all, she spoke with an American accent.

Danny's heart thudded in his chest. This couldn't possibly be….

"I beg your pardon," Dumbledore said, voice strained, "but who might you be?"

"Patricia Simmons of Simmons, Simonson, and Sims," she announced cheerily. "I'm Mr. Daniel Fenton's lawyer."

* * *

><p>Thank you to the Literary Lord, who initially directed me to the wandlore on the Harry Potter Wiki (it's also on Pottermore, but he was the one who first told me it was public domain). If you're interested in Danny's other wands, go check out the Wiki page.<p>

Remember Danni and Jazz plotting to get their brother out? Yeah. Patricia shows us some of that next chapter. Not to mention that she's living proof of it herself- how else would Danny get a lawyer?

Last chapter's meter: 7.15.

Lastly… my family's going on another sort-of vacation next week. It'll mostly be a bunch of day trips, but we're also staying on a houseboat and I know we're not going to have internet access this weekend, at least. I don't know how this will affect updates or replies to reviews, so please put up with me.

-Corona


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: In which much paperwork is missing**

* * *

><p>It took all Danny's self-control not to break out in a happy dance right there in the middle of the Great Hall. As it was, he grinned idiotically, unable to hold back one- okay, fine. Two- fist pumps. "Yes! I <em>love <em>my sister!" A pause. "Jazz did send you, right?"

"Jasmine Fenton sent me, yes."

"I love my sister. I really, really love my sister. Help me remember to get her the world's best birthday gift. And Christmas gift. Have I mentioned that I love my sister?"

Patricia smiled, revealing straight white teeth. "Once or twice, Mr. Fenton." She returned her attention to the stunned (and in some cases, Stunned) frozen Aurors, the still form of Dolores Umbridge. "Might I ask what is going on here?"

Umbridge's mouth worked silently. In her defense, the silence might have been involuntary. She had been hit by more spells than anyone else in the room, probably more than any two Aurors combined. Her hideous pink cardigan had grown several mustaches, her hair and eyebrows had vanished, red horns and a tail poked out of her body, and her skin had acquired the texture of cottage cheese. Slugs dripped from her lips, crawling over her mustache-covered clothing. Who knew what the assorted enchantments might have done to her vocal cords?

"I'm waiting, Ms. ...?"

The toady snapped out of it. "I am Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic himself!" she shrieked. Or rather, she tried to shriek. Her voice had acquired the condescending cadences of cartoon characters marketed to very young children. Such cartoon characters are usually not good at shrieking, and the one whose voice she had gained was no exception.

Patricia took out a notepad and pen (a pen! Danny couldn't believe it. A witch was actually using a pen!). "I see. And what, pray tell, is the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic himself doing at a school, especially since she is surrounded by no fewer than twenty Aurors?"

"I am also the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," she hissed. Another slug dripped to the floor. "Which means that these brats, including the little Mudblood you're here to pander to, are MINE!"

The lawyer frowned. A single line creased her forehead. "A racist comment from a teacher is allowed to go unremarked on." She scratched that onto her paper. "Jasmine was right- Hogwarts is indeed a gold mine of lawsuits." She stashed the pen behind her ear. "I'm sure you'll be glad to know that Mr. Fenton is no longer your responsibility. According to no fewer than one hundred fifteen laws in America and Great Britain, it is illegal for foreign entities to kidnap minors for any reason. As such, I am taking Mr. Fenton back to America- assuming that's all right with you, Mr. Fenton?"

It was. It was more than all right. Danny opened his mouth to tell her so… and remembered his promise. His face fell.

"Mr. Fenton?"

Think fast, Fenton-Phantom. You can't leave until the Horcruxes are dead, but you can't exactly say that. So you need an excuse. Good thing Dumbledore's already kindly provided you with one.

"I'd love to go, ma'am, but Dumbledore put some kind of hex on me. I can't go too far from Hogwarts without hitting some kind of invisible barrier. Believe me," he added, face going flat, "I've tried."

Patricia's eyes flashed. "A gold mine indeed," she growled, sounding almost like Randall. The honey badger's ears perked up. He trotted over, gave her a sniff, and chuffed approvingly.

"You have no authority here!" Umbridge howled. "This is mine!"

The lawyer took a long, slow, deliberate look around the Great Hall. Students stood on the tables, a few of them bleeding, wands out and aimed at the Aurors. The Aurors themselves were in a wide variety of uncomfortable situations: dancing uncontrollably, being attacked by bat boogies, fighting off their own shoelaces. Umbridge was obviously the worst off- the students had dreamt of cursing her since the first day of the term, so of course they'd leapt at the opportunity- but none of the British adults save Dumbledore had escaped unscathed. The walls were freshly scarred from stray spells, plates shattered across the floor. All in all, it was not a pretty picture.

"Congratulations." Patricia's dryness could have turned the Great Lakes into another Sahara. "Mr. Fenton, I'd like to speak with you now, please. And I would greatly appreciate it if you only interacted with your kidnappers under my supervision. That way you'll have a witness."

"She uses Blood Quills!" a Ravenclaw howled. "I can prove it- I've got the scars right here!" She waved her hand wildly.

"The caretaker wants to hang us up by our thumbnails!"

"Snape tried to poison his student's pet!"

"There were dementors here two years ago! They even searched the train. I had nightmares for the next month!"

Students climbed down from their perches, approached the American lawyer. Desperation warped their faces, desperation and painful hope. Their voices mingled, a song of complaints that should have seen legal action years ago.

"I'll speak with you individually after my appointment with Mr. Fenton!" she yelled. "Until then…." She trailed off, stared at the Aurors. Who knew what they would do to keep the children silent? If half of what she'd heard about Hogwarts was true- dragons, escaped criminals, possessed teachers and teachers under Polyjuice for an entire year, students getting Petrified, a former terrorist given authority over an entire House- well, she wouldn't put anything past them. This was not the kind of place she would send her sons, not at all.

Randall laid a paw on her knee. He churred softly, shot a glare at the Ministry officials, and bared his teeth. In honey badger speak, that meant "I will keep my worshippers safe from those-who-threaten-them."

"Thanks," Danny said quietly. He stroked the animal's head just once before turning to his lawyer. "Our Overlord will take care of them," he assured her. "And if, on the off-chance that they overpower him, they'll have to deal with me." Blue eyes flashed, hot as fire.

She nodded.

"I'm afraid, Patricia-"

"Mrs. Simmons," she corrected.

Dumbledore frowned. "Very well. But I am afraid that you cannot speak with Daniel without adult supervision. While he is at Hogwarts, he is legally under my authority and protection, and I would rather not have you take advantage of him."

The woman snorted.

"Professor Sprout could supervise," suggested one of the Hufflepuffs. "She's our Head of House."

Patricia beamed at him. "Excellent suggestion. Thank you." She flicked her wand. An eagle Patronus sprouted from its tip.

The minutes passed in tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Occasionally a student would poke his or her head into the Great Hall, hoping for lunch. Then the student in question would see the battle lines: angry Aurors lined up on one side, wiping away the last effects of curses, and stiff students on the other. Snape especially was on the warpath; he had taken a hundred points from Hufflepuff and assigned Danny a month of detentions before turning to Dumbledore and demanding that Patricia be thrown from the premises. The headmaster was smart enough to realize that any attempt to do so would fail and be used against them in court but had a great deal of trouble making the other man understand that.

Patricia killed time by reading snippets of the day's _Manhattan Magicals _aloud. The headline? "The Horrors of Hogwarts," supposedly by Jasmine Fenton but really by her sister Danni. "Earlier this week, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sent a Portkey via owl to American citizen Daniel 'Danny' Fenton…. Fenton was Stunned, marked with a Tracking Charm, and exposed to an object of Legilimentic magic called the Sorting Hat that is used on each Hogwarts student…. Fortunately, Fenton is able to exploit the huge quantity of pent-up rage in his fellow students. He immediately founded the protest group Citizens United for Reform in Education (C.U.R.E.), which intends to raise education standards in magical Britain…."

It was into this situation that the very bemused Pomona Sprout walked. Her eyebrows nearly flew off her head. Then she noticed Danny, who was listening to his lawyer and grinning madly. The confusion dropped from Sprout's face.

"I'm Patricia Simmons, Mr. Fenton's lawyer," the American said. "You must be Pomona Sprout. Mr. Dumbledore here wants you to supervise my first conversation with my client."

Sprout closed her eyes, counted to ten. "Albus, just let the boy go home."

"I'm afraid, Pomona, that the law forbids it."

Patricia bared her teeth at him. "That's not for you to decide, Mr. Dumbledore. Now that that's settled, please come with me, Mr. Fenton, Professor Sprout."

The Head of Hufflepuff led them to her office. Sighing, she called a house-elf for tea. Patricia went rigid. She had forgotten that Brits still enslaved house-elves.

But enough about that. She could focus on house-elf rights another time, preferably after gaining a toehold in the British magical community by suing Hogwarts. America had been waiting for years for an excuse to change magical Britain's policies- in fact, if she hadn't known the senator who passed the idiotic law forcing Daniel to come here, she would have almost wondered if that was the plan all along. But few politicians were willing to sacrifice themselves for a cause, no matter how noble, without a guarantee that they would eventually be proven right.

"Could you summarize everything that happened to you that could be relevant to this case?"

Danny told her everything relevant to the case: his kidnapping, his four O.W.L.s, the spells cast upon his person. He even gave an edited account of his escape attempt last night. He considered ratting Harry and his friends out, but decided not to. He'd heard that the Weasleys were pretty poor, too impoverished to afford him pressing charges. He might not like Ron, but his siblings were in C.U.R.E. (the twins especially looked like wonderfully productive members. They had all sorts of ideas for pranks to get their point across), and his parents didn't deserve to lose the roof above their heads.

Patricia's expression darkened steadily as she listened to Danny's tale. The lines around her mouth deepened, hardened, but she said nothing except to ask the occasional question.

When Danny was done with his own story, he backtracked to explain what had been going on at Hogwarts for the past few years: Quirrel and Voldemort's unholy union, the basilisk roaming the halls for months without anything resembling a police investigation ("I have the skin here if you want to see it"), young children exposed to dementors, an escaped convict breaking in, a troll doing the same years earlier, the gladiator-style dragon fight, the captives in a mer-village, Cedric Diggory's death….

By the time he was finished, Patricia wanted nothing more than to raze this cursed 'school'- and she used that term lightly- to the ground.

"And that's not even getting into the staff," Danny grumbled.

"There's _more?_" He had to be joking.

"Oh yeah," Danny grumbled. "You saw Snape and the posters, right?"

Sprout decided to intervene. "We can hardly help Umbridge's presence here, Mr. Fenton."

"Sure you can. Cancel the class and incorporate the material into other classes like Charms. It's a lot more useful to defend yourself than to learn about giving teacups whiskers. Or change the name like Justin said. Or get a bunch of curse-breakers and make the stupid class safe to teach again."

The professor considered. Finally she sighed, nodded. "Actually, Mr. Fenton, you're not the first person to make the suggestion about curse-breakers. However, Albus has never listened." She hesitated again, then added, "I think it's a matter of pride. Albus has accomplished great things- defeating one Dark wizard, leading the resistance against another one, huge strides forward in Transfiguration and alchemy. By this point, he isn't used to the thought of anyone outperforming him. He believes- really believes it, and with good cause- that he is the best suited for anything, and in many cases, he's right."

Danny thought of the Horcruxes and scowled.

"I'm not necessarily defending him," the witch continued, "just trying to help you understand it from his perspective. He sees a young man who blatantly refuses to obey the law, a law that was passed for his sake alone. He sees a student who rebels worse than anyone else and has somehow converted the rest of the school to-"

"There's no somehow about it," Danny protested. "This place is a madhouse."

"But from his perspective- and I'm not saying this is right, because I know that Cedric's death, at the very least, was out of control- it isn't."

"Whatever his motivations may be," Patricia interrupted, "he still kidnapped Mr. Fenton, illegally dragging him out of the country. Do you have a passport, Daniel?"

The halfa's eyes widened. "I don't!"

His lawyer smirked. "Passports are mandatory in the wizarding world as well, though their paperwork is obviously handled by the Ministry instead of the Muggle government." She shuffled her notes. "And that's good news for us. Think about what you want as reparation from this school, because with this case, you'll get it and more."

"I already know, though," Danny replied. "I want sanity and safety for the other students here."

Patricia started. It wasn't often that she heard a request quite as selfless as that. "I… see," she said, nonplussed. In the back of her mind, she saw the letter Jasmine had sent with her down payment: _Danny will be easy to work with. He's a great kid, and very, very special._ "Professor Sprout, would you mind supervising the rest of my interviews?"

"I didn't have anything else to do this afternoon," she admitted, "so all right. Mr. Fenton, go do… something. Just please leave the school standing."

"Okay." He stood, took a step towards the door, and paused. "Hey, Mrs. Simmons, you were going to join C.U.R.E., right?"

"I plan on it." To Sprout, she explained, "I'm techincally a citizen, just not of Britain."

"Awesome," Danny laughed. "And on a completely unrelated note, are you good enough to make the Boston Tea Party look like a perfectly logical legal precedent for… something?"

"Of course."

"Sweet! I'll go get the people in the Great Hall, then. Bye!" He trotted off, whistling cheerily.

"Boston Tea Party?" he heard Sprout squeak behind him. "Do I want to know what that is?"

"I suspect you'll find out when Daniel does… whatever he's planning to do with it."

The halfa grinned and picked up his pace.

Until his parents (or Tucker- he'd asked the techno-geek to work on the Fenton Catcher if Jack and Maddie didn't) rebuilt their invention, there wasn't a whole lot he could do about the Horcruxes. Oh, sure, he could overshadow Harry himself, but then no one else would know. Harry would think he was still possessed, as would Dumbledore and everyone else. Then, when the Catcher arrived and they didn't see any effects from it, they'd think that it hadn't worked. And he definitely wasn't involving any of his ghostly friends in this.

Tucker would let him know when the Fentons were almost done with their repairs, so when he got his friend's letter, he could have Dumbledore and Harry pop over to Amity Park and make his escape while they were busy. No, scratch that- he had to wait and make certain it worked. If it didn't….

Well, he'd jump that hurdle when he came to it.

The Great Hall's tension had died down somewhat, though the Aurors (now free of their curses) were still present. Most of them had clustered around Umbridge and were trying to fix her up. Danny would later learn that Madam Pomfrey had had some sort of unspecified 'accident' that prevented her from caring for the Defense professor, which was why the Aurors had to work on her.

More students had joined their classmates at the House tables. They listened eagerly to the story of what had happened earlier that day. Randall crouched protectively nearby the Hufflepuff table.

Danny hollered, "Okay, Mrs. Simmons is taking complaints now!"

He had expected a mass exodus. Instead, many of the other students hesitated, exchanged nervous glances, looked at Dumbledore. Finally, Fred and George Weasley took the fall. "We'll let you know when we're done!" one of the redheads shouted.

"What's going on?" Danny asked Ernie.

"Anyone who goes to see her loses a hundred House points and gets ten detentions with Snape and/or Filch. Rumor has it that one of those detentions will be spent in the Forbidden Forest at night. Snape said so, and he doesn't lie about this kind of thing."

"If he gets fired," Danny pointed out, "then he can't exactly enforce that."

Ernie grinned and went to spread the word.

Danny leaned back in his chair, reached for his lunch.

He had a lawyer, his parents were working on the Fenton Catcher, and life was as good as it got away from home.

* * *

><p>"Say, Maddie, what's this note supposed to say?" Jack held up an unusually thick piece of what he thought was paper but was really parchment.<p>

Maddie squinted at it but was unable to make out many words. When Danny and Klemper had cleaned the basement of ice, they had missed a few spots, most of which were on the ceiling. Those spots had melted and dripped, covering everything beneath them in a thin layer of water. Unfortunately, Dumbledore's note had been left beneath one of the largest ice deposits.

"I think it says… yes, that name there is definitely Albus Dumbledore." A worried frown creased her face. "Jack, what if something's happened to Danny?"

The big man's eyes widened in horror. He might despise Danny Phantom, but no one could deny that he loved his son. "How do we contact the wizards?"

"With an owl, but we don't have one. Jack, what do we do?"

Her husband thought hard. "Get your passport, honey. We're heading to Hogwarts!"

* * *

><p>"Here he is, Master." Snape bowed low before stepping aside. Behind him, a boy's unconscious form floated in midair, suspended by the Death Eater's spell.<p>

"Excellent." Voldemort reached out, touched the boy's face. The captive winced away. "Well done, Severus. You have pleased me."

"I live to serve."

* * *

><p>Oh noes! Someone has been kidnapped! But who? Find out next chapter. And the Fentons are coming to Hogwarts, which might be worse for Dumbledore than the kidnapping.<p>

Last chapter's meter: 7.72.

-Corona


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter sixteen: In which Randall destroys an Evil-Scrap-of-Badness-That-Does-Not-Belong**

Harry rubbed his scar.

He had been doing that a lot for the past day (almost a day and a half, now- he'd been told the night before last. Funny how his life could turn upside down in so short a time), ever since he'd learned what it really was. How it connected him to Voldemort. How it kept Voldemort alive.

He had forced the headmaster to tell him a bit more about Horcruxes. The old man hadn't wanted to- soul vessels were horribly Dark, not the kind of thing you'd tell children about- but Harry had worn him down. The presence of Patricia Simmons had helped, too- Harry had taken a leaf out of Fenton's book and threatened to use a lawyer. The betrayal on Dumbledore's face had matched the betrayal which Harry himself felt.

He dreamed Voldemort's dreams, felt Voldemort's emotions, and the bond would probably (almost certainly) grow stronger as he and the Dark Lord both gained their strength. Voldemort was still recovering from his period as a wraith, and Harry wasn't yet full-grown. Neither was at the height of his power, but when they were…. Harry shuddered to think about it. Dumbledore hadn't known for certain, but he had hypothesized that the two Parselmouths would live half in each other's mind, random uncontrollable outbursts of split personality and involuntary espionage.

Thank Merlin for the Fentons. He just hoped that their technological dream catcher thingy worked on Horcruxes.

A soft, warm hand touched his shoulder. Harry looked into Hermione's sympathetic brown eyes. "You all right?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine," he sighed. "I'll just feel a lot better when…." He touched his scar again. "Hermione, you're smart. How long do you think it will take the Fentons to make their… er… Catcher?"

"I have no idea," she confessed. "Daniel is the only Fenton I've ever met. I don't know how quickly his parents can work or what materials they need or anything."

"Do you think he knows?" Harry looked over at the Hufflepuff table, where Fenton was conspiring with a couple other students, his lawyer (who was trying and failing to hide a grin), and that terrifying honey badger of his.

"He probably knows more than I do," Hermione admitted. "They are his parents, after all."

"Think we should go ask him?"

Hermione thought, tilting her head to the side. "It can't hurt, I suppose," she finally decided. "Besides, I wanted to talk with him anyways." She stood. "Come on, Harry."

The two friends walked over to the Hufflepuff table. "Hi!" exclaimed one of the fourth years. "You here to join C.U.R.E.?"

"Yes," Hermione declared, even as Harry answered, "No." They exchanged startled glances.

"You're joining?"

"You're not?"

"Well, no. I wasn't planning on it."

"I was." Hermione's jaw firmed. "We can trust Fenton, I think- he at least is doing something, not just sitting around on his bum and waiting for the stars to align in his favor." A muscle in her jaw twitched; it was clear (to Harry, at least. Probably not to the fourth year) just who else she was talking about. Nor was she still speaking of C.U.R.E. "He might not be entirely honest, but this isn't his fight, and he's still done more than everyone else combined."

Nope, she definitely wasn't talking about the Citizens United for Reform in Education.

Harry changed his mind. "Actually, I'd like to join too, please."

The little Hufflepuff actually squealed with happiness before handing them the four petitions and membership list.

"Now that we've joined," Hermione said, "could we speak with your leader about some relevant issues?"

"Sure." Harry and Hermione started; they hadn't realized that Fenton could hear them. "But we should probably go somewhere a bit quieter, right?"

"Excellent idea," Harry replied, keeping his tone deliberately light.

Simmons shifted. Fenton shook his head. "I'll be fine. Besides, you're busy with important legal stuff." The lawyer rolled her eyes but nodded her permission anyways.

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuff walked through the hallways, making light conversation about C.U.R.E. itself until they arrived at an abandoned classroom. As it was Sunday morning, they were in no danger of being overheard. Students did occasionally use old classrooms to practice their spellwork, but mostly did so on weekdays.

The second the door shut, Fenton dropped his unconcern. He fixed Harry with a worried gaze. "You okay?"

The concern in the older student's voice made Harry wince. How could he have thought that this was a Death Eater? "I'm fine."

"I notice that your other friend isn't with you." Fenton's feet shifted. "Did he…?"

"No, Ron's not angry. Well, not at me. He's pretty annoyed with Voldemort, though, and had a few choice words to say about the headmaster."

"Me too," Fenton- Danny- muttered.

"He's probably just sleeping," Hermione shrugged. "He does that sometimes, and we have had a long weekend."

Harry didn't think so- he hadn't heard the other boy snoring- but didn't say anything. Ron probably just needed some time to himself.

"Yeah." Danny's feet continued to shuffle. "So… um… how can I help you?"

Harry sucked in a deep breath. "Do you have any idea when that machine of your parents' will be done?"

Danny's gaze softened further. "Mom and Dad are pretty fast, when they want to be," he assured the younger boy. "I'd say a week, tops. Probably faster. But then they'd have to send an owl, which would take another few days." He scowled. "You know what? I bet you could just show up at my place in a week and ask about it."

"Will you come on that trip?" Hermione asked.

The halfa smiled ruefully. "Dunno. I promised that I wouldn't go home until the Horcruxes are gone, but I have no idea if going to FentonWorks to help you remove one counts as breaking my promise. I hope not, because I really want to go."

"You probably should," Harry advised. "They know you. They don't know me."

"I'll come as well," Hermione promised. "For moral support. Ron probably will too."

A lump rose in Harry's throat. He coughed, forcing it to clear. "Yes. All right, then." He swallowed, turned to Danny (who was conspicuously _not_ watching) and asked, "How exactly does this thing work, anyways?"

"The gist of it is that it separates ghostly matter from stuff that belongs in this world. It's kind of like a… um…" He searched for the right word. "A colander, I guess. You know, those things you strain pasta through? The water goes through, but the noodles don't." The halfa groaned. "Except that's not the best comparison, because both the ectoplasmic matter and the normal matter go through the Fenton Catcher."

"A coin organizer?" Hermione suggested.

"You mean one of those things that you put spare change into and it'll organize all the money into dimes, pennies- oh, wait, you don't use those."

Hermione shook her head. "But you get the idea, regardless of differences in currency," she pointed out.

Danny nodded. "Yeah, that's a much better comparison than pasta and colanders." He grinned. "So, did you actually understand my babbling?"

"I think so," Harry replied, "but how do we know that the Horcrux is ectoplasm-based?"

The smile slid from Danny's face. "We don't," he sighed. "In all honesty, I have no idea how a Horcrux is formed- and I don't particularly want to learn, either." He shivered. "Splitting your soul is just…."

Red eyes like twin pools of blood. Hair like fire. Foul laughter, his forked tongue flicking out. His symbol perverted, a sign of hate instead of hope.

"No," he repeated, "splitting your soul is not a good idea. Souls are meant to stay whole."

"How can we find out if the Horcrux is vulnerable to your parents' devices?" Hermione wondered. "We already know that that… you called it a Boo-merang, right?" Danny nodded. "We know that the Boo-merang can detect it. Do you have any other machines that work on the same principles?"

"A few," Danny admitted. "I've got a Fenton Thermos- that's what Danny Phantom uses to catch ghosts. Fenton Fones, but those aren't for hunting. They're for communication. Jack o' nine tails, but that's pretty much a glorified net launcher that you can't phase through. Glorified fishing rod, baseball bat, Ecto-Dejecto-"

"What's that?" Hermione interrupted. The name made it sound like something they could use.

"It was supposed to be a ghost-weakening agent," Danny explained, "but my parents couldn't work out any of the bugs. Instead of weakening ghosts, it makes them stronger." Which was good for Danni (it had even given her a growth spurt) but bad for Harry. He really didn't want to give the younger boy a shot of Ecto-Dejecto only to find that it had made the Horcrux stronger.

"So why did they give it to you?" the girl asked, forehead crinkling.

Danny shrugged, cursing himself for letting that slip. Did he really have to be such a loudmouthed idiot? "I'll have to ask." Please don't remind me.

"So there's nothing we can use to figure out if the Fenton Catcher will even work on me?" Harry moaned.

"…I could try sucking it out of your forehead with the Fenton Thermos…."

The two Gryffindors stared at Danny. Danny blushed. "Never mind."

"Actually," Hermione announced, "that's fairly brilliant."

"Really?"

"It's better than anything I've come up with so far," she admitted, "though I haven't had time to do much research yet."

Harry snorted. Hermione had spent the previous day cooped up in the library, completely ignoring her homework. She'd barely gotten back to Gryffindor Tower before curfew, at which point she had pestered Harry about his Invisibility Cloak. Harry, not wanting his friend to lose too much sleep, had told her no. He'd then argued with her about whether she should go to bed or read through the books she'd acquired. Fortunately for Hermione's sanity, Harry had won that argument.

"I need to do more today," she mumbled.

"Or we could see if the Fenton Thermos works," Danny suggested. "Then you wouldn't have to research exorcisms."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Exorcisms?" she repeated. "I hadn't thought of it in those terms. I'd just looked at the sections on purifying Dark magic…."

Danny reached into his purple backpack and extracted a gray-and-green cylinder. "Behold the Fenton Thermos," he proclaimed in mock solemnity. "This one's especially lucky, Harry, because it's the one Randall came in." He smiled innocently at the younger boy's involuntary twitch.

"Should I lay down for this?" Harry asked, trying to ignore the honey badger comment.

"I dunno," Danny admitted. "I've never used a Fenton Thermos to extract a malevolent soul fragment from a wizard before. Whatever's most comfortable, I guess."

"You should sit against a wall," Hermione decided. "Legs beneath you, though, so Daniel can get as close as possible." She looked askance at the thermos. "Is that safe for use on humans?"

It was safe, albeit humiliating, for use on half-humans, so Danny nodded. "Probably, yeah. My parents have tried to use it on humans before because they thought the people were overshadowed. They were wrong, but their victims were only angry, not hurt."

Harry braced himself against the wall. He took off his glasses, forced his eyes shut. Meanwhile, Danny unscrewed the thermos's cap. Light beamed from its interior, making Hermione gasp in awe. Technology working at Hogwarts… incredible.

"Okay," Danny's voice announced, "I'm bringing it in now." Cool metal pressed against Harry's forehead, over his scar. His skin was sucked slightly forward, tight against the bones of his skull. "How's it going?"

"Okay," the other wizard replied. "A bit funny-feeling, but not painful."

Danny groaned. "Why do I get the awful feeling that you just jinxed it?"

The halfa's prediction proved more accurate than any of Sybil Trelawney's prophecies. Lightning-shaped pain splintered Harry's mind, burned into his skull. Suddenly he felt like the Fenton Thermos was sucking off his skin, leaving him scalped and eyeless and in horrible hideous pain-

The pain stopped. Harry's head jerked up, jaw extended, panting wildly. Hermione's hands held his shoulders. "Are you all right?" she yelped. Behind her, the horrified Danny remained silent. He clutched his now-capped thermos in shaking hands.

"Did I scream?" It was hard to talk, hard even to think the words.

"Yeah," Danny answered.

Harry swallowed several times. His throat was dry, cracked. All the liquid in his body had been transformed into the sweat that now matted his hair, soaked his clothes, dripped from his chin and fingers. "Water."

Danny sprinted off, leaving the thermos behind. Hermione fussed over her friend: how can I help, are you sure there isn't anything else I can do? All Harry wanted was water, so she cast the _aguamenti_ spell into his open mouth.

The older boy returned. He had evidently visited the Great Hall; a goblet full of water was in his hands. Randall trailed behind him. The honey badger cocked his head in confusion.

Harry accepted Danny's offering with only a brief nod of thanks. He swallowed noisily. Hermione stood by, refilling the cup whenever it was running low.

"I'm sorry." Danny's voice was utterly miserable. "I swear, I had no idea it would do that." His blue eyes were filled with desperation and fear.

Harry put his cup onto the floor (Hermione quickly refilled it again, just in case). For the first time, he took in the Overlord of Hufflepuff's presence. Harry hesitated. On the one hand, he had seen Snape's reaction to the animal's presence in his mind. On the other, he had no guarantee that the Fenton Catcher or the Fenton Thermos would work. Randall's presence had already destroyed at least one Horcrux, probably more.

The Parselmouth groaned. Hermione took this as confirmation of her worst fears. "I'll get Madam Pomfrey-"

"Don't," Harry ordered. He looked into Randall's eyes, green into gold. One hand pushed his water-filled goblet towards the animal, a promise of payment for services not yet rendered. Danny had never said outright that the honey badger understood English, but he had certainly implied it. "Lord Meme, would you please get rid of the evil soul in my head?"

"Harry, I don't think-"

Randall nodded, dived forward into Harry's skull.

It was a strange sensation, being overshadowed by a honey badger, but not half as unpleasant as Harry had feared. He got the impression that Randall was trying to be gentle (though the honey badger would never admit such softness even to himself), and (relatively) gentle he was. The animal zeroed in on something that felt wrong, an Evil-Scrap-of-Badness-That-Does-Not-Belong. A clawed paw batted at the wrongness. It seemed to hiss, almost like a serpent would, but Randall had fought many snakes in his time. He hissed right back. His claws grasped the Evil-Scrap-of-Badness and tore it from Mark-on-the-Head's head, sending it out to his hunting partner, the Thing-Who-is-Unique. He was a bit miffed that the Evil-Scrap-of-Badness was going into one of his dens, but such a thing couldn't be helped. Besides, he could always eat it later.

Then Harry was himself again, blinking rapidly to dispel the alien thoughts crowding his skull. Randall sniffed at the thermos, growling softly at the thing within it. Danny lowered the metal cylinder so that the ghost had a better angle.

"Did it work?" Hermione's eyes were wide with anxiety.

"I…I think so," Harry breathed. One hand ghosted under his bangs, over his scar. The hand trembled. "I think it worked!"

"Yes!" Danny exulted, pumping his fist in the air.

Harry smiled so widely that his face began to hurt. "It worked! We have to go tell Ron!"

Hermione leapt to her feet, ready to sprint back to Gryffindor Tower. Randall huffed in amusement. Then he snarled.

Harry jumped. Hermione turned away from the door, back to the animal. The Overlord of Hufflepuff had flung himself through the wall. Moments later, he returned with a terrified owl in his paws. Growling, he flung the bird down at Harry's feet.

"Er, thank you?"

Since the owl _was_ carrying a letter addressed to him (probably from Sirius. Padfoot had probably just told the owl not to deliver the message until Harry was alone or something equally innocuous), Harry opened it. Hermione leaned over his shoulder; Danny pointedly avoided looking in the missive's direction until Harry's horrified "No!" attracted his attention.

Horrified "no!"s were, in Danny's experience, generally bad. "What happened?" he demanded.

It was Hermione who answered. "You-Know-Who's got Ron."

Danny wrenched the letter out of her hands.

_Harry Potter, _

_Your friend Ronald Weasley is currently sampling the hospitality of my dungeons. If you want him to survive, you will surrender yourself to my loyal servant Severus within the next twenty-four hours. Do not tell Dumbledore of the boy's disappearance; I have cast a spell ensuring that if Albus Dumbledore learns Weasley's location, the boy will perish. Not immediately, of course- the curse takes several hours to finish. By the time it is over, the boy's mind will be gone, his body unrecognizable. Surrender yourself, Harry Potter, in exchange for the life of your so-called 'best friend.'_

It wasn't signed, but Harry recognized the handwriting from Riddle's diary. Then there was the reference to Snape- Voldemort's loyal servant Severus.

His first impulse was to give in, to let the Dark Lord take him. But he had no guarantee that Voldemort would keep his side of the bargain, no assurance that Ron would live. For all he knew, Ron was already dead.

Sweet Merlin, he hoped not.

"This is so going in the lawsuit," Danny muttered.

"Is that all you can think of?" Hermione demanded.

"Of course not! I'm just saying that once we've rescued Ron, my lawyer will milk it for everything that it's worth." His smile was feral, an expression that would have been at home on Randall's face. "So what's the plan?"

* * *

><p>Ron Weasley groaned.<p>

Consciousness had returned slowly to the redhead- being drugged will do that to you. Being drugged will also provide one with a pounding headache, a sour taste in the back of the mouth, and extreme stiffness in the joints. That Ron had been dumped unceremoniously on a cold stone floor did not help.

The wizard blinked blearily. His blinks became increasingly rapid as one thought echoed around his skull: This was _not_ Gryffindor Tower.

Okay. Don't panic. Look on the bright side. You're not tied up or anything…

…but only because of the immense iron bars that would prevent his escape.

No, that wasn't looking on the bright side at all. Bright side, Weasley, bright side. You're alive and mostly unhurt and… um… no one stole your clothes. Ron groaned again. He couldn't think of anything else that could qualify as bright side material.

What would Hermione or Harry do? Probably magic. He felt for his wand, arms heavy as lead, but couldn't find it. It must have been confiscated. But who had done that?

He forced his pounding brain to focus, to dredge up memories of what had happened. He had been walking back to the tower after practicing Quidditch… then Snape had showed up. Snape had brought him down to the dungeons, then nothing.

A scowl crossed Ron's face. He swore, punched the wall. "Snape's on our side," he sneered, mocking Dumbledore's words. "Snape's our friend. Snape's not a bloody greasy Death Eating kidnapper."

"I believe," purred a high-pitched male voice, "that Albus prefers it when his students refer to Severus as _Professor _Snape."

Oh, sweet Merlin, please let this be a nightmare. If it's a nightmare, I'll do anything.

But he knew that it was not a nightmare. He was fully, wretchedly, horribly awake.

Ron turned, body trembling, praying that Harry's descriptions were less than accurate. But his friend's report was true: the high-pitched voice did indeed belong to a tall, pale man with the face of a snake. Lord Voldemort, scourge of the wizarding world.

A tiny whimper escaped his throat.

Voldemort smiled, a predatory baring of teeth. "Do you know why you are here, Ronald Weasley?" he rasped.

"H-Harry?" Ron was surprised that he managed to speak at all. His throat felt as though someone had lodged a Quaffle in it. Under those circumstances, he didn't mind the stuttering.

The Dark Lord chuckled. The hairs on Ron's neck stood on end. "No, though I will certainly take advantage of your friendship, now that you are here. I have already sent off an owl to him… and to your beloved brother." Hatred twisted his face, made it even fouler than before. "_Chuck Norris,_ who dared to assault me within my own stronghold!"

Ron's brain stopped working. Chuck Norris? Wha? What in the world was going through Voldemort's head?

The red eyes twitched. "Soon," he vowed, "Chuck Norris and Harry Potter will both pay. Their fate will inspire nightmares for generations to come… thanks to you, Ronald Weasley." The smile widened. "Enjoy your last days alive."

* * *

><p>A bit of a darker chapter, but some good things still happened. Unless you are Ron. Then... well, at least you still have your clothes.<p>

Last chapter's meter: 7.475.

You guys are kind of making me nervous because of your high expectations. I'm not sure if I can create something funny enough to satisfy you, but I'll sure try. Wish me luck.

On an unrelated note, I'd like to make a PSA: If you've ever been stung by bees/wasps/hornets/etc., get an EPI-PEN. My dad was bitten by hornets a couple weeks ago. He's never been allergic to them, before, but this time he had an anaphylactic reaction. If we hadn't had an EPI-PEN on hand, he would have DIED. I am not joking, he was really that close. *shudders* He's fine now like it never even happened, but that was scary (no, I am not announcing this for sympathy. I just don't want you to die. If my reviewers die, I don't get reviews! :) ). So if you've ever been bitten, GET ONE or something else that can keep your organs from shutting down and your throat from swelling up until you reach the emergency room.

-Corona


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: In which Snape gets a taste of his own medicine (literally)**

Ron's face was turning blue. His eyes watered with strain, his cheeks puffed up. He swallowed rapidly, moistening a parched throat. Tight bands wrapped around his chest. He was ready to implode.

When he could stand it no longer, he released his breath, sucked in clean, fresh air. His heart rate accelerated almost immediately as blind panic surged through his veins.

No. You have to stay calm- um, become calmer- if you want to escape. You can't calm down if you're hyperventilating. He gulped down air, held his breath, beginning the cycle anew.

Ron had no idea how long he'd been in Voldemort's dungeons. His brain said that he couldn't have been there too long- he wasn't particularly hungry or sleepy (though that might have more to do with fear than anything else). He was thirsty, yes, but that was also due to fear. He'd already drunk the water the cringing Pettigrew had left him. It only seemed like forever.

The redhead exhaled once more. For the first time, his heart didn't rush like a horse at the races. Okay. That was a good sign. It meant he was calming down. So try to think of good things.

Good thing number one: he was alive. Being alive was always good. And even better, he was still in one piece! That could be good thing number two. Number three… um, since they were using him to catch Harry (and that other bloke, whoever he was) they would _probably_ keep him alive. That's not to say that they wouldn't… wouldn't torture him (Ron swallowed a tiny whimper), but he'd be alive.

Don't think about the torture. Find more good things! Like good thing number four: since they were using him to catch Harry (and, again, that other bloke. Why were they using him to catch someone he'd never even heard of?), then Harry must know he was missing. If Harry knew, Dumbledore knew. If Harry and Dumbledore knew, they'd come to rescue him.

The thought warmed Ron's chill limbs. His trembling, which had begun after he thought about getting tortured, slowed and ceased. Harry and Dumbledore knew. They knew. And they'd come to save him.

A smile, lopsided and weak but still a smile, crossed Ron's face. It would be okay. He just had to tough it out until rescue arrived.

Footsteps echoed down the stone corridor. Ron trotted to the front of his cell, strained his ears. Hope fluttered in his chest. It was too early for rescue, right?

It was indeed too early for rescue. Wormtail and another wizard in Death Eater robes, someone he'd never seen, were coming towards him. The unidentified man held his wand at the ready, prepared to attack at the first sign of resistance.

The smile fell off Ron's face.

"Where are you taking me?" Ron didn't stutter, his voice didn't break. He would have been proud if he hadn't been so nervous.

The unknown Death Eater didn't answer. Wormtail, though, explained, "The Dark Lord has called a meeting. You are to attend."

The relative calm brought on by Ron's deep breathing exercises vanished. Oh, sweet Merlin, they were going to torture him now! He didn't want to be tortured. He really, really, really really didn't want to be tortured. A voiceless croak escaped his mouth as his body went limp.

Limp! That's it! Didn't some people faint when they were in danger? Quirrell had. Well, sort of- he'd faked it. But if he could fake it, then so could Ron. There would be no point in torturing him if he was unconscious- and, better yet, he might even be able to get away!

Ron's eyes rolled back into his head. He let himself fall backwards, a boneless puddle on the floor. Please fall for this….

"Huh?" Wormtail's voice.

"Coward," grumbled the other Death Eater. "Let's levitate him. The Dark Lord can perform _ennervate _when we arrive."

A curse bubbled up in Ron's throat, was ruthlessly quashed. Of course the Dark Lord would revive him. They were wizards. They could do stuff like that. That just meant that he really ought to escape now.

He strained his ears. It was hard to hear anything over the frantic beating of his heart, but he still managed to detect Wormtail rustling about his robes. The other Death Eater opened the door. Metal screamed in protest as the slightly rusted hinges grated against themselves. "Here it is!" Pettigrew exclaimed. "_Wingar-"_

Adrenaline flooded Ron's veins. He lunged forward, towards the incanting voice. Wormtail's spell warped to a yelp. The other Death Eater cursed, grabbed at his own wand.

Ron collided with Wormtail in a pile of thrashing limbs. The older wizard's grip had gone limp, loose with shock. The younger took shameless advantage of that. His fist tightened around the wand. "_Stupefy!_"

He hadn't been aiming at anything. The spell went wild, slamming into the stone wall. Dust clouded the air. Ron pushed himself off Wormtail's chest, began firing more Stunners in the general direction of the unknown Death Eater. Walls shattered, spewing more stone dust into the air. It was getting hard to see, hard to breath, but his hearing remained unaffected. He heard the wizard's body thudded against the ground. Ron grinned, a flash of pride lending him strength, and turned to Stun Wormtail.

The smile faded. Pettigrew was gone. He must have taken advantage of Ron's distraction to change forms, to hightail it out of there.

He'd be back any minute with reinforcements.

Ron cursed. He grabbed the other Death Eater's wand, kicked him in the face for good measure, and sprinted down the hallway. Panic dulled his brain. Which way had the Death Eaters come from? Right, they'd come from the right. That meant he had to go left. He had to hide.

If only Hermione were there. She would know all sorts of hiding spells. The Disillusionment Charm. Something to bend light around him. Notice-Me-Not Charms. Better yet, Harry's Invisibility Cloak-

Did Death Eaters have their own Invisibility Cloaks? He could Summon one. But then his enemies could just follow the Cloak. No, better not.

_Crack! _A tall, slender figure in Death Eater robes Apparated into the hallway right in front of him.

Ron dug his feet into the floor. He slid several feet, arms pinwheeling, almost falling. Lucius Malfoy smiled coldly, raised his wand. A Body-bind hit Ron at point-blank range. His limbs went rigid. He lost his fight against gravity, went tumbling to the floor. Pain blossomed in his nose; blood squirted from it.

"Come along, Weasley," Malfoy purred. "The Dark Lord is waiting."

* * *

><p>"Fred! George!" Hermione skidded to a stop. Between pants and gasps, she managed to force out, "I need you to do a prank."<p>

"Huh?" The twins stared at her in befuddlement. Was this some kind of joke? Or perhaps their ears were playing tricks on them- they could have sworn that Hermione Granger, prefect, Miss "killed-or-worse-expelled," had just asked them to pull off a prank.

Hermione's jaw tightened. "We need a distraction," she explained. "Dumbledore can't know."

The twins found themselves incapable of speech. Even a simple 'huh?' was beyond their capacity.

"It's a long story and we can't tell you everything because that would take too much time and we don't _have_ a lot of time, but please, please, please whip up something quickly that will distract Dumbledore and maybe even the entire school."

Peeves whizzed into the room. He carried a gray-and-green something-or-other in his hands, probably one of the Fentons' inventions. The humans jumped. "I'll help," the poltergeist proclaimed, uncharacteristically serious. At Hermione's questioning glance, he explained, "I ran into Danny-boy."

"Don't you hate him, though?" George asked the witch.

"No." Hermione winced. "I promise that we'll explain later. Right now, though- it's for Ron. Please, Fred, George, Peeves, you know I'd never ask this if I didn't need to."

"I- I guess we could try out some experimental fireworks and Dungbombs," Fred suggested.

"And that swampy thing."

"But we haven't tested it yet!"

"No time like the present."

"All your experimental pranks," Hermione announced.

"And Fenton weaponry," Peeves added, hoisting his strange machine. "And Project Tea Party!"

"Ooh." Fred grinned. "I've been looking forward to that."

"Exactly," Hermione confirmed, ignoring Fred's comment. "And right now, I really have to get going. Peeves, did Danny say anything about a change of plans?"

"Nope. Now come along, Freddie and Georgie!"

Hermione bobbed her head. Moments later, she was gone.

* * *

><p>"Drooble's Best Bubble Gum!"<p>

"For the last time, kid, give it up. We've already told you that the headmaster isn't in his office."

"I know that," Harry agreed. The Marauder's Map had confirmed the gargoyles' information. Now, what candies hadn't he tried yet? Blood Pops? No, he'd suggested that earlier. "And I told you that I don't need the headmaster. I need Fawkes. Now could you please step aside so I can get him?"

"Sorry." The gargoyle folded its arms. "Not without the password."

Harry sighed. "All right then. Mars Bars. Cotton candy-"

"Rats," the other gargoyle muttered. It and its partner swung aside, granting Harry entrance to Dumbledore's private domain.

Harry sprinted up the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet several times. He burst into the headmaster's office, crying out, "FAWKES!"

The sleeping phoenix jerked awake.

"Sorry," Harry panted, "but it's a matter of life and death. I need you to come with me. Please."

Fawkes fluttered over to take his place on Harry's shoulder. He gave a confused trill, his way of asking why Harry hadn't gone to someone else.

"I need your transportation ability," Harry explained. "We're all too young to Apparate."

"What're you up to, Potter?" interjected the Sorting Hat.

Harry jumped. He'd almost forgotten that the office had more denizens than the phoenix on his shoulder. "It's a long story, and I can't tell you. If I told you, you'd tell Dumbledore, and then the curse would start working and I think that Ron would die."

Fawkes screeched. The Sorting Hat squawked, "What?"

"I'll explain later," Harry promised. He stared at the headpiece. An idea began to form. His eyes traveled to a display case behind Dumbledore's desk. "Do you mind if I borrow Gryffindor's sword again?"

"Only if you can pull it out of me."

"But it's right there!" Harry pointed at the sword on the wall.

"Where it is protected by all sorts of enchantments. The fastest way to get it back is to use me." The Sorting Hat attempted to shuffle over to Harry. Being a hat, it was not particularly adept at shuffling. Harry darted over to it, plunged a hand into its depths. His fist contracted around something hard and cold. Grinning, the boy drew the sword.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Mr. Potter. Get to Snape's office now."

Green eyes went wide. "How did you- of course. I put my hand inside you. You used that to read my mind, didn't you?"

"Of course. But rest assured, I will not tell the headmaster anything. I don't know if the magic Voldemort described is even possible, but like you, I'd rather not run the risk of finding out. Good luck and Godspeed, Harry Potter."

"Thank you." Harry wished he had a hand to shake, a shoulder to thump, but made do with touching the hat's brim. "Fawkes, can you take me to Snape's office?"

The phoenix trilled his answer. Fire flashed. When it cleared, they were gone.

* * *

><p>That map thing of Harry's sure was useful. If not for the map, Danny would have spent all morning and probably part of the afternoon hunting for the resident Death Eater. With the map's help, though, he'd (actually Harry) been able to determine that Snape was in the Slytherin Common Room.<p>

Danny had briefly considered doing the deed himself, but Randall beat him to it. The honey badger soared through the walls of the dungeon, into the room beyond the portrait.

The halfa waited. His sensitive ears picked up screams and laughter, not to mention a bunch of really ugly curses from Snape himself and snarls from Randall. Soon enough, a black-and-white blur zoomed out of the wall. The blur slowed down, becoming once again the Overlord of Hufflepuff. The ghost grinned, tongue lolling. Snape's brand-new wand hung from his teeth. Danny fought back laughter.

Cursing violently, which he really shouldn't do nearby the Common Room (there were children present, after all), Snape stalked out of the chamber. The cords in his neck bulged. His normally white face was crimson, a shade that would have done any Weasley proud.

Danny became invisible and leaned back to watch the show.

Dark eyes met golden. Randall's insolent grin widened. He dropped the brand-new, never-used, once squeaky-clean wand from his mouth into his paws. _Bring it._

Snape brought it. With an incoherent cry of rage, he charged.

Danny sighed. Too bad he hadn't had time to grab popcorn. But, he mused, trotting behind the retreating ratel and pursuing professor, he'd probably just spill the popcorn anyways.

Randall led Snape (and the invisible Danny) on a not-so-merry chase around the lower levels of Hogwarts. Whenever the potions master tired, Randall did something less than pleasant with his wand. The new surge of rage ensured that Snape gained a new burst of energy.

When the Death Eater was exhausted, hair dripping greasy sweat, Randall finally relented. Well, sort of. He entered the professor's classroom, headed through it to his office. Danny slipped ahead. He returned to visibility just as Snape flung open the door to his office.

A fist slammed into the Death Eater's overlarge nose. Snape staggered, clutched his proboscis. Stars danced before his eyes.

Danny took advantage of the older man's distraction (and temporary blindness) to cast the Leg-locker Curse. He followed it up with a paralysis spell centered on the arms. Snape, like Ron, fell forward onto his already-abused nose. Cartilage shattered.

Quickly, efficiently, Danny flipped over his opponent. Black eyes burned into him. "Release me," Snape snarled.

"Fat chance, Death Eater." Danny pushed up his left sleeve. There. The Dark Mark, just like Harry had said.

A muscle twitched in Snape's jaw. "I am a spy for the Order of the Phoenix- not that such confidential information is any of your business."

"If it's confidential, you really shouldn't spill the beans." Danny began rummaging through Snape's potions. "It's really convenient that you labeled all these. Mind telling me where the Veritaserum is?"

Snape's head jerked up. He tried to rise to his feet, but the curses kept him on the floor. "This is illegal!"

"So was the kidnapping of Ron Weasley," Danny shrugged. "Oh, good. Found it!" He drew a small, fluted vial off the shelf. "Veritaserum, made just last year. If memory serves, this stuff is good for another two or three years, more with refrigeration. And it probably does serve. I did pretty good on my Potions O.W.L."

The sweat covering Snape's brow was not entirely due to his run. "What do you mean, the Weasley boy has been kidnapped?"

"Cut the crap, Severus. We both know what I mean." Danny uncorked the bottle.

Snape tried desperately to escape. He squirmed, he refused to open his mouth, he tried to spit the Veritaserum into Danny's face. The halfa would have none of that. He sat on the potions master's chest, forcing him to remain still, forced the man's jaw open. After depositing three drops of Veritaserum into his mouth, he forced the Death Eater's lips shut. It was just a matter of time now before Snape swallowed.

Harry and Fawkes appeared. Snape, distracted, swallowed. Black eyes went wide a moment later, but by then, it was too late.

"Where's Ron?" the Parselmouth demanded. He had been asking Danny, who was rapidly pushing himself off Snape's ribcage, but the Veritaserum could not be denied.

"He is in the Dark Lord's dungeons at Malfoy Manor," Snape confessed.

Harry's voice went flat, hard. "And you're the one who brought him there."

"…I am the one who brought him there."

Hermione hadn't yet arrived- she had the furthest to go- so Danny asked a few questions of his own. "How many Death Eaters are at this manor place?"

"The Dark Lord began to call all of his followers mere minutes ago, while I was pursuing that wretched beast. By now, all my comrades save for the ones in Azkaban ought to be present."

Oh, goodie. He got to take down all the bad guys in one fell swoop. Danny loved it when that happened. "What's the meeting about?"

"I do not know for certain, as you have prevented me from attending, but I believe it has to do with Weasley's captivity. The Dark Lord believes that he can use the brat-" Harry's jaw twitched "-to capture Potter there and another individual, one Chuck Norris."

Danny's face drained of its remaining color. Oops.

"What?" Harry interrupted, startled into speaking. "Where did he even hear of Chuck Norris? He's a Muggle. And Voldemort's been a wraith for the past thirteen years!"

The halfa coughed sheepishly. "Um, I might have had something to do with that."

Harry glared. Danny blushed, ducked his gaze. "Let's just say that my sense of humor got the better of me and leave it at that, okay? For now, I'd like to get back to the interrogation."

The Parselmouth grudgingly accepted that interrogating Snape would be more productive than grilling Danny. "If you were planning an assault on Malfoy Manor with only two people-"

"What do you mean you're coming with me?" Danny demanded. "No way. You're what, fifteen? You're staying here." (He conveniently forgot that he had begun hunting dangerous ghosts when he was even younger than the Gryffindor was now.)

Harry's jaw sagged. Never, in all his years at Hogwarts, had he heard anything like that. Oh, he'd been exposed to his share of you're-too-young (mostly last year with the Triwizard fiasco and this summer at Headquarters), but no one had ever volunteered to take his place before.

"I'll go alone," Danny decided, "especially since it's apparently my fault he got kidnapped in the first place."

Fortunately, the halfa was saved by Hermione's timely, if unintentional, intervention. She burst into the room, face red, hair damp with sweat. "Are we- ready- to leave?" she panted, hands on her knees.

"I do not know," Snape grumbled, forced to answer even though he knew he hadn't been addressed.

Harry filled Hermione in on what they had learned. The girl's lips narrowed to a thin line. "I see." Her foot twitched as though it wanted to kick the kidnapper, but somehow she restrained herself.

As Harry explained, Danny tried to convince Fawkes to take him to Malfoy Manor. It would have been easier to use the Infi-map, but Harry had suggested using phoenix travel during their initial conspiracy phase. As Danny had no legitimate means of alternate transportation, he had grudgingly agreed. After all, a phoenix could help him fight. A map couldn't. But no matter how many times he explained to the bird that they should really leave now, that he really didn't want to endanger Harry and Hermione by dragging them along, Fawkes refused to leave. He just dug his talons into Harry's shoulders.

Danny sighed, lowered his gaze. His eyes landed upon the sword. "You know how to use that?"

"…Not really…."

"Mind if I take it then? I'd probably do better with it than with a wand." He'd still use the wand (as a cover for his ghost powers if nothing else) but the blade would be his main weapon.

"You know how to fence?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah. I learned it from a friend back home. Her name's Pandora. Trust me when I say that she's scary good." He shook his head. "But never mind. That Death Eater meeting won't last forever. Come on, Fawkes, let's get going."

The phoenix fluttered. One leg remained on Harry's shoulder. The other tangled itself in Hermione's robes. Dark eyes met blue. Though Fawkes could not speak, his message was clear: All three of you are going.

Randall growled. He floated up, placed a paw on the phoenix's back. Fawkes trilled his acceptance. All right, all four of you are going.

Danny's shoulders slumped. "You're sure?" he asked, begging the bird to reconsider. Fawkes nodded. Danny sighed. "All right, then." He laid a hand upon the phoenix's fiery feathers.

Flame flared, and they were gone.

* * *

><p>Yeah, this is a filler. *dodges painful flaming missiles of death* Well, I had to explain how they got there, didn't I? And this way the Weasley twins and Peeves shall unite to wreak lawyer-defended havoc.<p>

Last chapter's meter: 7.02. I think that had a lot to do with someone voting -2.

Next chapter: the Amazing Epic Battle of Amazing Epicness. Have I mentioned that I'm not overly confident in my ability to write fight scenes? So it... it might take a while. *dodges more missiles* Sorry!

-Corona


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: In which the cavalry arrives**

"Hogwarts sure is fancy."

"It must be, but I thought it was supposed to be a castle."

"Ah, that's probably just propaganda, Mads. Besides, this place is close enough to a castle that I don't really care about the differences." A grin.

Laughter. "Just don't forget why we're here, Jack. Danny's in danger. Shall we?"

"Bonzai!"

* * *

><p>The Death Eaters knelt in a semicircle around their lord and master, gazes riveted on the floor. Their knees were beginning to hurt, but none dared complain. They didn't even dare to shift their weight, fearful of attracting their lord's attention and ire. He, too, was displeased with how long Wormtail and Avery were taking.<p>

As if summoned by his master's rage, Wormtail jogged into the room. "The prisoner's escaped, my lord!" he cried.

Voldemort stalked over to his least competent minion. "A fifteen-year-old child, the son of two blood traitors, escaped two of my Death Eaters?"

Wormtail gulped.

Fortunately for the Animagus, Voldemort was intelligent enough to realize that torturing him would be counterproductive… for now. It would be much better to go after the Weasley brat, hunt him down, then torture Wormtail as an example. Let the little blood traitor see what was in store for him. Let him sweat.

The Death Eaters ran off, hunting the boy through the halls of Malfoy Manor. Unsurprisingly, Lucius was the one to find him. He brought the bound, gagged, and frightened boy back to the parlor and his lord. Ron went white at the sight of Voldemort, but that was the only sign of fear he exhibited. If he was going to… to be tortured (even the thought made him want to cringe), then he would face it like a Gryffindor.

"Well done, my slippery friend," Voldemort purred. He reached out, cupped Ron's bloodless face. The boy went stiff under his hand but once again kept his expression level (or at the very least not half as terrified as he felt). "I must commend you for even attempting to escape. As I told your friend Harry Potter at the end of his first year, I admire courage. You have both courage and pure blood, and are obviously skilled enough to defeat Avery and Wormtail- not that the last is much of a feat. If you wish to escape without experiencing the Cruciatus Curse, then you will join me."

Trade his Muggleborn friend and the Boy-Who-Lived-to-help-him-so-many-times to save his own sorry hide. Become another Wormtail.

Fat chance.

Voldemort was not surprised when Ron shook his head violently, jerking his chin out of the Dark Lord's grip. "A pity," he sighed, "but I did not expect you to see sense. Torture it is, then." He grabbed Lucius's arm, pressed a long white finger against the Dark Mark. Malfoy winced in pain.

The Death Eaters, masked and anonymous, trickled back into the room. Ron counted them, despairing. There were far too many for him to overpower or trick, even without taking Voldemort into account. In other words, he was screwed.

"My loyal servants," the Dark Lord began, but that was as far as he got before he was interrupted by a ferocious "Hrawhrhrhr!"

If Ron's jaw hadn't been held in place by the gag, it would have dropped to the floor. He knew that sound. Every student at Hogwarts did (not to mention the teachers). Slowly, more than half-convinced he was hallucinating, he turned his head to the door. The Death Eaters and their master followed suit.

Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious, Overlord of Hufflepuff, snarled over his shoulder one last time before turning an evil eye on the very, very confused Death Eaters… and Nagini. A wicked grin crossed the honey badger's face. He jumped forward, claws extended, teeth bared.

The slavering, snarling, glowing, ghostly animal was the most beautiful thing Ron had ever seen.

Half a second later, a dark blur sprinted into the room. Danny Fenton, wielding the silver sword of Gryffindor in one hand and his wand in the other, fell upon the nearest Death Eaters like a tornado, spinning and kicking and firing off the occasional _reducto. _He might not know many spells, but he did know how to put his minute repertoire to good use. Dust clogged the air, obscuring the Death Eaters' vision, choking their lungs, and settling on a solid though invisible shape that was darting through the room (fortunately no one noticed, or Harry would have been in trouble). A couple more curses and the ceiling became unstable; a few chunks occasionally fell from it, hitting enemies in the head.

Randall collided with Nagini. The two animals, one mortal, the other decidedly less so, tumbled across the floor, propelled by the honey badger's momentum. A third animal, a furiously trilling flame-colored bird, joined the fight, talons aiming for the serpent's head. Randall snarled, claiming the fight for himself. Fawkes withdrew, turned to swoop down on Wormtail, who, true to character, had taken rat form.

The Death Eaters who hadn't already been taken down by Danny's initial assault recovered, began to fire curses at him. Beautifully fluid, the halfa rolled aside. "That the best you've got?!" he yelled.

Voldemort himself cast a vivid green curse in the hero's direction. Danny just laughed. "C'mon, snakeface, can't you do better than that?"

Unseen hands grasped Ron's gag, tore it aside. A wand appeared from thin air. It was slightly damp, but Ron accepted it gratefully. He aimed a curse at Lucius Malfoy. The Death Eater dodged his curse- only for another hex to hit him in the face. Harry removed his Invisibility Cloak, smiling grimly. Now that he was involved in the battle, he had no need of it. "_Stupefy!"_

Voldemort dodged, screaming in rage. He had good reason to be angry: two teenage boys and two animals had just invaded his sanctuary, taken down a half-dozen of his followers in mere minutes (a thousand poxes on them and the element of surprise). Worse yet, the odd black-and-white creature had killed his precious Nagini, rending her open with its claws. His Horcrux hadn't gone down without a fight- there were three bight marks on the creature's side oozing greenish blood- but it seemed unaffected by the serpent's venom. What manner of beast could it be?

No. He had bigger things to focus on, like the fact that the beast, the phoenix, and three teenagers (one of whom was inexplicably wielding Severus's wand) were tearing through his ranks like tissue paper. At least that Granger Mudblood wasn't-

"_Incarcerous!_"

…Never mind. It seemed that she was here.

Fawkes the phoenix had finished banging Wormtail against the wall. The rat slumped unconscious to the ground. The bird, singing at the top of his lungs, swooped down on the nearest Death Eater, aiming his talons for the human's eyes. The Dark wizards winced; the one being attacked swatted wildly at the bird but couldn't get rid of him. A couple other villains raised hands to their ears, wands half-forgotten in their discomfort at the phoenix's magical song, which of course made them easy prey for the human rescuers. Hermione's Freezing Jinx, which she had used so long ago on Cornish pixies, slowed them just long enough for the boys to hit them with Stunners. Danny supplemented his magical attacks with his physical prowess, slicing through wands, elbowing enemies in the head, rendering them helpless.

Voldemort Transfigured the room's chairs into stone soldiers. The wannabe golems charged at the black-haired youth with the sword, the one who had taken down the most Death Eaters. The Dark Lord ignored his stone soldier's efforts, reasoning that there was no way a mere child could take down a dozen automatons. He turned instead to the three obnoxious wizards whom he did know: the Mudblood, the blood traitor, and the Boy-Who-Refused-to-Die.

The so-called Golden Trio had reunited in the center of the room. They stood back to back in a triangle, each covering the others' weaknesses. Harry performed the vast majority of offensive spells; Hermione cast shields and levitated bits of debris to block the Death Eaters' curses; Ron took out wannabe snipers whom his friends didn't have enough time to attack. Even as Voldemort watched, one of his subjects ran forward. This one was slightly more intelligent than the others- he kept a shield in front of him, which prevented the students' spells from making much impact. He had almost reached them when a black-and-white shape hurtled into his side, knocking him down.

Voldemort sighed. Good help was so hard to find. Of course, the phoenix song permeating the air wasn't helping….

He cast a curse. The floor beneath the youths' feet rotted into dust. They tumbled down- and then they were up again as Randall brought them _through _the floor, back into the fray.

"Hraaaaaaa!" Roaring like a dragon, the honey badger flew towards Jugson. The Death Eater reacted in the same way anyone would when being charged by a flying, glowing, snarling death-beast that had just taken down an enormous snake. He spun on his heel, trying to Disapparate, only to discover the hard way that someone (meaning Hermione. There was a reason she'd arrived so late to the battle) had erected anti-Disapparition wards.

"_Serpensortia!"_ Not just one but four snakes erupted from the tip of Voldemort's wand, each nearly as poisonous as Nagini. They slithered towards the three Gryffindors and their animal companion.

"Oh, come on," sneered a male voice. Voldemort turned aside, saw that the unknown youth hadn't died yet. Instead, he had taken down three-quarters of the golems already and was about to destroy two more. Even as the Dark Lord watched, the boy swung Gryffindor's sword through the air. The goblin-made blade sliced through solid stone with a ferocious hiss, much to Danny's delight. Maybe magic was good for something after all if it could make swords that cut through rock. "You're seriously siccing a bunch of snakes on a honey badger? News flash, Tom: Randall don't care. Randall don't give a-" Here he was cut off by a yelp, distracted by the stone constructs' attempt to murder him. Voldemort had restored his fallen servants. They, unlike the boy, would not tire.

In the center of the room, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were beginning to falter. Skilled as they were, they were still only fifth years, only three children up against dozen of adults.

So it was really quite sad that they'd taken down no fewer than six Death Eaters and were holding the others at bay. Sad for the Death Eaters, that was, and it would be painful to boot once Voldemort had made up for their incompetence by capturing the three teenagers.

"Step aside, you fools!" he commanded. Several of his idiot minions fired off another two or three curses before realizing that they'd been ordered to cease and desist. Oh, yes, they would definitely be punished for that. Imbeciles. "Harry Potter, I am willing to make a deal with you. If we complete our duel from June, then I will allow your friends to leave."

The boy snorted. "Why should I believe you?"

"You probably shouldn't," Danny said. He trotted up to the other teenage wizards, a bit bruised and dusty, but not much worse off than he'd been before. The boy stopped, sword lowered till its tip touched the ground. At the doorway, the last destroyed golem vanished into the ether. "Fruit loops are notorious for breaking their word."

Dark hair, blue eyes, American accent. It was that blasted foreign Mudblood Severus had been whining about. What was his name again? Well, no harm in asking. "Who," Voldemort sneered, "are you?"

"I'm Danny Fenton, the guy who gave you a marker mustache a couple nights ago."

"You did _what?_" the Granger girl shrieked.

Voldemort remained frozen for a single second. Then, shrieking with rage, he cast his most powerful Killing Curse at the smarmy child. Danny yelped, knocked the others to the floor. "_Kill them all!"_ Just to be on the safe side, he shot another Killing Curse at their phoenix companion. Fawkes hadn't expected the assault; he crumpled dead to the floor in a cloud of ashes.

"Ah, crap." The American waved his wand; a green light shot from its tip, enclosing him and the other three students. Voldemort's _avada kedavra_ hit it… and was absorbed into the shield.

"Wow." Danny's voice was blank with shock. "I didn't think that would work." That was the truth- he'd had no idea he could force ghost powers through his wand.

Voldemort snarled, began hurtling more curses at the pulsing bubble. A few made it glow more brightly, but none penetrated the protective membrane. The Death Eaters joined in the barrage but their spells were no more effective.

A huff drew some people's attention to the exit. Randall, claws and muzzle red with blood, sat at the threshold of the door, just daring anyone to try and pass him. The Death Eaters, who had seen what he'd done to Nagini (not to mention the other snakes, four black mambas, and another four of their fellows), didn't take him up on the offer. Randall grumbled a bit but leaned back on his haunches, watched the show unfold. The Death Eaters' curses (both magical and profane) were entertaining enough to make up for the lack of immediate violence.

"Looks like we're at a stalemate," Danny observed as more spells were absorbed into his shield.

"It seems we are." Now that she wasn't in immediate danger, Hermione's natural curiosity reasserted itself. "When we're done with this, Danny, you'll have to teach me this shield."

"Actually," he confessed, "I'm not quite sure what I'm doing. I just wiggled my wand a little and this thing popped out."

This infuriated Voldemort even more. Bad enough that he'd been bested twice by a mere Mudblood, now the brat didn't know what he was doing? His death would be slow and painful. Or perhaps he'd do to this child as he'd heard Bella and her friends had done to the Longbottoms, torture him into insanity, reduce him to a drooling vegetable.

But for now, he couldn't think of such delightful things. He had to destroy the accursed shield.

Harry whispered something in Danny's ear. A wicked grin crossed the halfa's face. "Sure thing. One, two, three!"

The Boy-Who-Lived dropped to the floor just as the shield lifted. It didn't disappear entirely, just floating a couple of inches off the marble floor of Malfoy Manor. Harry fired Bone-breakers and jinxes at the Death Eaters' feet.

Avery, hoping to make up for his earlier failures, tried to grab the shield, drag it physically off the children. Danny simply lowered his barrier, nearly cutting off the Death Eater's fingers. Avery yelped with pain.

"Idiots," Voldemort snarled, "fools! Can't you even destroy a simple charm from a schoolboy's wand?"

"Well," Harry pointed out reasonably, "at least they weren't killed by a baby." He grinned cheekily as a Cruciatus Curse impacted with the wall.

Avery pounded his fists against the shield's exterior.

"This is kind of sad," Danny noted, his words belied by the grin on his face. He had no idea that possessing a full-ghost's immunity to magic would be so entertaining!

"_Wingardium leviosa,"_ Hermione intoned. The chandelier on which Fawkes had perched was torn from its spot on the ceiling. Death Eaters tried to dodge, but they couldn't avoid the immense device. Several were crushed.

By now, only pride kept Voldemort from ordering a retreat. Bad enough that he'd been defeated by a babe in arms, bad enough that he'd been forced to leech off Quirrell and Pettigrew, bad enough that none of his plans had worked since that long-ago Halloween, _he would not be driven out of his own headquarters by some American Mudblood!_ Taking a leaf from Hermione's book, he levitated the chandelier, began pounding it against the thrice-cursed shield.

Randall took advantage of the Dark Lord's distracting shiny lights to overshadow a random Death Eater. Golden light flared behind the evil wizard's eyes. Grinning wickedly, he pounced on one of his comrades, who fell to the floor with a shriek. The Death Eaters opened fire; their overshadowed comrade collapsed. Randall rose out of the human form, flew into another body, and began the cycle all over again.

If Danny had seen his honey badger friend's actions, he would have laughed himself silly. As it was, he was a little distracted by Voldemort's assault. Ghost powers might be able to hold off magic, but chandeliers were an entirely different story.

Tiny cracks appeared in the green light around him and the three Gryffindors. His shield was weakening.

"What's Plan B?" Ron asked.

"This was Plan B," Danny confessed. For the first time, he appeared worried.

"Okay. What's Plan C?"

"I'm working on it."

Harry's eyes lighted on the Overlord of Hufflepuff. "Sir Randall! Can you give us a hand?"

"Hrr."

Harry took that as a no. He blamed the honey badger- he was rather busy taking down Death Eaters.

"Crabbe, Goyle, go under the floor and attack them from below!" Those two were expendable. If they died under the weight of the floor collapsing (not to mention the teenagers), they would be no great loss.

As per their orders, the two wizarding Neandertals (who were, coincidentally, almost the last wizards standing) turned… and were promptly hit in the face by a green and gray device. More precisely, a gray and green Boo-merang.

"Huh?" The thug stared blankly at the metal contraption, which had bounced off his skull to clack against the shield. Danny, who with the others had been preparing for an intangible journey through the floor, found himself paralyzed by shock. More cracks appeared in his shield. Even Randall paused (though that might have been because he was almost out of enemies-to-be-destroyed).

A redheaded woman in a form-fitting teal jumpsuit stepped into the room. She was followed by a dark-haired, aging behemoth in brilliant orange. "Hi Da…."

Maddie's greeting cut off in mid-word. She and her husband took in the scene: a snake-faced man who appeared to be Freakshow's noseless cousin pointing a wand at their son; a group of dark-robed, rather slimy-looking individuals groaning on the floor; Crabbe and Goyle, who were intimidating enough without their wands; a ghost animal of unidentified species; Danny himself, accompanied by three children about his age; and, most importantly, a chandelier that was attempting to murder all four students.

"NOBODY-HURTS-MY-SON!"

Jack's roar snapped his wife out of her stupor. They each drew two enormous bazookas from somewhere within their jumpsuits (not even Danny, who had lived with them for years, knew where they kept their weaponry) and began firing. They weren't the best at aiming, true, but at this close of a range, that didn't matter. Nor did it matter that their guns were designed for ghosts instead of still-breathing mortals.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched in slack-jawed shock as two Muggles tore through the remnants of Voldemort's ranks (Crabbe, Goyle, two other unimportant cronies, and the Dark Lord himself), blasting them aside with emerald beams of light, covering them in sticky green goo. They were barely conscious of Danny dropping his shield and firing a few curses of his own.

It was over in less than two minutes. The Death Eaters were already disorganized, already wounded from their fight with the four teens, the honey badger, and (to a lesser extent) the phoenix. They had no experience with fighting Muggles who could fight back, no concept of what the shining metal machines might do to them.

And so Lord Voldemort himself was defeated by a red-haired woman and her black-haired husband as they sought to save their only son.

"Danny!" Maddie vaulted over the chandelier, which had bounced off her son's shield and slid to the center of the room. "Are you all right?"

Randall, not knowing if this woman was a threat, growled menacingly. Danny placated him with a gentle touch to the head. "It's okay, Randall. These are my parents."

"Is that a ghost?"

"He saved my life," Danny snapped.

"But is he a ghost?"

"Like I said, he saved my life. Does it matter if he's a ghost or not?"

Hermione coughed. "Pardon me, but… _what?_" She spread her hands in confusion. "I'm afraid that I have no idea what's going on."

"Welcome to my life," Jack muttered.

"Maybe we could all explain our stories on the way to Hogwarts?" Harry suggested. He had picked up the infant Fawkes, was cradling him in his hands. "Because we can't just flame-transport back. We'll have to Floo or find broomsticks or something."

"I don't think the wards would let us Floo," Hermione informed him.

"So this isn't Hogwarts?"

"Er…no. This is…." Hermione trailed off, completely, uncharacteristically lost.

"It's the base of Britain's friendly neighborhood terrorist organization," Danny explained.

His parents went whiter than Voldemort.

"We need to get to the Ministry instead," Ron decided. "Get all of these under arrest."

Hermione and Harry, who had not expected their friend to give such practical advice, gawked.

"What?" Ron shrugged uncomfortably. "What else are we supposed to do with them?"

Maddie recovered her voice. "Terrorist organization?"

"Yeah, the friendly neighborhood Nazis. Didn't Dumbledore tell you about them?"

"No." Maddie's grip tightened around her bazooka. "No, he did not."

"We can explain everything on the way to the Ministry," Harry repeated. "Now we just have to, er, get there. We can Floo, right?"

"The Specter Speeder should be able to fit them all," Jack announced.

"The what?"

Maddie smiled grimly. "We'll explain on the way. Now come on. Let's get them loaded up."

They came up with a simple system: Harry and Hermione would Stun each prisoner, just to be on the safe side. Then Jack and Maddie would tie them up with goop. Danny and Ron levitated the unconscious, goop-covered Death Eaters into the Specter Speeder, where they piled them up like Jenga pieces. As long as they could breathe, the boys reasoned, they would be fine.

"Good," said Maddie as the two Muggles, three wizards, halfa, baby phoenix, and honey badger (it had taken quite a bit of fast talking, but Danny had eventually convinced his parents that this ghost, at least, was kosher) crowded themselves into the front of the Specter Speeder. "Now what's this about terrorists?"

* * *

><p>Oddly, last chapter's meter was only 6.67. Not sure how that happened...<p>

There are probably only 2-3 chapters left. Oh well. All good things must end sometime.

Who else almost feels sorry for Voldemort? I mean, Jack and Maddie covered him in ecto-goop. Then again, he does kind of deserve it.

-Corona


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: In which the British Ministry of Magic is hit in the collective face with a metaphorical frying pan**

Halfway to London, the three Gryffindors remembered that people would probably notice a floating spaceship-car hybrid zooming through the streets of the city. Even though it was a Muggle device, its presence would still raise enough questions ("What are those children wearing? Why are there dozens of unconscious men in robes and masks tied up in the back of your vehicle? Why does this man have no nose?") to invite a break of the International Statute of Secrecy. With that in mind, the Fentons made a detour to the Burrow. They still had to take back roads- no need for the citizens of Ottery-St.-Catchpole to follow them- but this was far less conspicuous than trying to unload dozens of unconscious Death Eaters into a phone booth.

"Can someone else ring the bell?" Ron requested. "I think that if Mum sees me before she hears an explanation, she'd murder me for skipping school."

"I thought you said you were kidnapped?" Maddie said.

"I was," he confirmed. "But Mum doesn't know that."

"Good point," Hermione acknowledged. She trotted up to the door, rang the bell. "Ron, why don't you… er… give Overlord Randall a tour?"

Ron looked at the honey badger, who was staring in fascination at the garden gnomes. "No thanks, Hermione. I think he's good. I'll just hide behind Mr. Fenton here until Mum isn't chomping at the bit anymore." He sidestepped around the Muggle's bulk, hiding himself completely.

Had Ron waited even another second, he might have been noticed, for that was the exact moment that Mrs. Weasley opened the door. She took in Hermione, who was fidgeting, and Harry, who was looking at Jack as though contemplating copying Ron's idea, and finally the three Fentons.

Hermione coughed. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley," she said lamely. "May we use your Floo, please?"

The woman's shock receded. "Not unless you're going back to Hogwarts, young lady. What are you doing here?"

"We've got a busload of captive Death Eaters that we need to drop off at the Ministry," Danny informed her.

Mrs. Weasley jumped. "What?"

Danny jutted his thumb at the Specter Speeder.

Harry, realizing that Danny might not be the best at explaining these things, took over before the older boy could elaborate. "Before I tell you what happened, Mrs. Weasley, I just want you to know that everyone is all right. Everything turned out just wonderfully. Ron's safe."

Molly's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean, Ron's safe? When was he in danger?"

Harry grinned, relieved. She obviously hadn't looked at the famous family clock recently. "The point is, he isn't now."

"Where is he?" she demanded, starting to worry.

"Right here, Mum." Ron stepped out from behind Jack's back. "I'm fine, okay? Gah!" For Molly had swooped down on him and was inspecting him for cuts, bruises, anything. Unfortunately, she found quite a few of those, though none were serious.

"You're hurt!" Horrified, Molly took in the others' appearances. "You're all hurt! Stay right here, I have to get some healing potions-"

"Mrs. Weasley-"

It was too late. The witch had already run inside. A minute later, she returned with an armful of vials. "Drink up, all of you."

"Mrs. Weasley-"

"Don't bother, Harry," Ron muttered, accepting his potion. "It's useless." He quaffed the brew with a grimace. "Do they have to taste so bad, Mum?"

"Yes," she retorted, watching him with a hawkish gaze. She nodded in satisfaction as his bruises shrank, vanished, cuts closing without even a scar. "Now what happened?"

They told her everything, standing still upon the threshold, words pouring from their mouths. They told her of Ron's disappearance, of the letter from Voldemort (Harry had brought it with. He showed her, let her touch the incontrovertible proof), of their hasty plan to capture Snape and use him to rescue their friend, of the frantic battle in Malfoy Manor, of the Fentons' last-minute appearance. They didn't tell her who Danny was, not out of malice or secrecy, but because they had forgotten she knew nothing about him. He had had such an effect on their lives that they didn't remember they hadn't known him until just a few days ago themselves.

Molly Weasley listened to her son's tale with trembling and sickness. Her baby boy had almost died, almost been tortured to insanity. The thought of what could have happened….

"Geroff me, Mum!"

Molly ignored her son, hugged him even more tightly, rocked him back and forth. "Are you sure you're all right?" she whispered.

"I'm fine, Mum. Harry, Hermione, and Danny got there before anything happened."

Mrs. Weasley loosened her grip just long enough for Ron to draw in a single breath. She looped her arms around Harry and Hermione, drew them into the hug. She would have gotten Danny too, but her arms were too short to embrace them all.

Finally, after the three Gryffindors began to turn blue, the elder witch released them. They fell back, panting and gasping.

Harry was the first to recover. "Er, thanks, Mrs. Weasley. But like we were saying, could we use the Floo, please? We kind of need to get the Death Eaters to the Ministry."

"Of course!" She frowned, shook her head. "No, never mind. It would be easier just to make a Portkey."

Since nobody really wanted to physically carry all those Death Eaters through a fireplace (what if they dropped one?), everyone agreed to let her make Portkey. It took Molly a couple of tries, as she wasn't accustomed to making Portkeys and because she was rather emotional at the moment, but within just a few minutes two Muggles, a ghostly honey badger, a half-ghost superhero, three more Hogwarts students, and a rather irate red-haired witch were standing around the Specter Speeder in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

The Ministry wizards' reaction was predictable. The ones who could see the Specter Speeder stopped what they were doing, halting midstride, jaws sagging almost to the floor. Those who weren't facing the bizarre group noticed their colleagues' reactions and turned. They blinked several times before rubbing their eyes, half-expecting the bizarre apparition to disappear. It didn't.

Harry shattered the silence. "Mrs. Weasley, could you help me find the Auror department? I think we should bring some Aurors up here- the speeder probably can't fit in an elevator."

"Excellent idea, Harry. Will the rest of you be able to guard them?"

Jack's only response was a wicked grin. Maddie hefted her bazooka. Randall chortled. Even Danny was grinning widely, an expression which highlighted his resemblance to his father. "We'll be fine."

"All right then." Harry and Molly approached the stupefied security wizard. "Harry Potter and Molly Weasley, here to drop off some Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort."

The wizards around the room winced.

"Er… what?" The security guard was not entirely certain what to do about that.

"We captured Voldemort and his Death Eaters," Harry explained. He had to fight back and evil cackle; Merlin, he was enjoying this! "Even though you lot don't believe he's back, you are technically the only way to get them all into Azkaban, so we thought we'd bring them by. Now, will you let us through?"

The security wizard recovered enough of his wits to glare. "Listen, boy, don't you think this You-Know-Who mania has gone too far? He's not back, he's-"

Randall dove into the Specter Speeder. He returned moments later with the rather squished-looking, green-goop-covered, completely unconscious, and very recognizable Dark Lord.

The Ministry personnel shrieked, wailed, and generally behaved like frightened little children. Two or three fainted; another curled up in a fetal position.

"Like I said," Harry repeated, "we'd like to get Voldemort here arrested, and we need Aurors for that. So please let us pass."

"I…I…."

Harry groaned. "I'll just assume from your incoherent stammering that you're giving us permission to continue."

The guard nodded. The two visitors passed him.

Harry and Molly attracted even more stares as they trotted over to the elevator. These personnel had no idea that Voldemort himself was just a couple hundred feet away; they just wondered why the Boy-Who-Lived was here instead of Hogwarts. The stares followed them as they entered the elevator, pressed the appropriate button, and descended to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Due to the importance of their… acquisition… they went straight to the Department Head, a stern older woman named Amelia Bones. Harry remembered her from his hearing that summer; she was, like Professor McGonagall, strict and fair. She was reading a report when her two guests entered her office, grumbling under her breath. All in all, she looked rather glad for a distraction. "How may I help you?"

"Voldemort is tied up and unconscious in the Atrium."

Amelia choked on her own saliva.

Molly cuffed Harry across the shoulder. The boy grinned unrepentantly. "Well, he _is_." No wonder Danny was so snarky all the time- this was fun!

"I… I'm afraid I have to see this for myself, Mr. Potter."

"All right. His Death Eaters are there too, just so you know."

Amelia closed her eyes and counted to ten. "All right. I'm coming."

The Golden Trio, the Fentons, Molly, and Randall remained at the Ministry of Magic for most of the rest of the day. They had to give what felt like dozens of interviews to dozens of Aurors, then turn around and tell the rest of the Ministry what had happened. Then the media showed up, just in time to see Amelia Bones learn that Danny was technically in the country illegally ("But it's not my fault, I swear! I was kidnapped!"). And of course no one had any idea how to remove the goop from the Death Eaters. According to Jack and Maddie, it would wear off in time even without the antidote, which they had left at home. Until then, the Death Eaters would just have to deal.

_Then_ Voldemort woke up. He hadn't been Stunned magically, just hit over the head and shot at. This had been enough to keep him out for a while, but the noise at the Ministry was more than enough to wake him up (though Crabbe and Goyle somehow slept through the hubbub. They were evidently very heavy sleepers). This caused a mass panic. Shrieking, the media and Ministry personnel sprinted away.

"Come back, you idiots!" Danny yelled. "He's tied up in goo!" He stepped on the back of the struggling Dark Lord's head. Voldemort's face was rammed into the floor. "And now he's unconscious and therefore even more harmless."

Voldemort groaned, proving Danny a liar.

"Oops." The halfa innocently tapped his wand against the wizard's shoulder. "Okay, now he's out again. You guys can come back now." Just to be safe, he hexed the un-Stunned Death Eaters as well.

The day continued on in that vein. More government officials entered: more Aurors, some of whom had 'met' Danny and Randall at Hogwarts; Hit Wizards acting as bodyguards; secretaries to record their statements; Percy Weasley, who dragged his mother and brother aside for several long minutes and came back utterly shamefaced; Arthur Weasley, who joined his sons and wife in the middle of their conversation; and the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge himself, who took one look at Voldemort and fell over.

By the time their interviews were over, they were all drained. "Let's stay in Britain for the night," Maddie suggested. A yawn forced her mouth open. "Danny, do you think they'd let us stay at Hogwarts with you?"

"Probably not. I… the headmaster doesn't really like me."

"Nonsense, nonsense." Fudge's hands wrung his bowler hat. "I'm sure that Albus would be… very thrilled…." His eyes flickered over to Voldemort. He shivered. "I'll have someone make you a Portkey. Let me… let me write a note- you there!" The lackey he had addressed jumped nearly out of her skin. "Get me a quill, parchment, and an Unspeakable!"

"Yes, Minister." She scurried off, returning moments later with the requested items and person.

"Did you want me to stay too, Ronnie?" Molly asked.

"I'll be fine, Mum," he promised her. "Just go home with Dad, all right?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You're _absolutely positive…._"

"Yes, Dad, I'm fine. Really."

"You'll see Madame Pomfrey for shock?" His mother was not asking a question or even making a suggestion. She was giving an order, and Ron knew it.

"Okay, Mum. I'll see her before going to bed."

Molly nodded, turned her gaze on the other students. "And you too, Harry, Hermione, Danny."

"Who's Madame Pomfrey?" Jack whispered. His wife shrugged.

The Unspeakable handed over Fudge's note. "Decided just to make his explanation the Portkey," he explained in a rough, guttural voice. It didn't sound as though he spoke much.

"Yes, yes." Fudge's head bobbed up and down, up and down. "The letter will explain everything." He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "You will tell Albus that I did this of my own free will, yes? That I'm doing my best to help?"

"Sure." If he remembered, that is. Harry accepted the Portkey. "Sir, is this powerful enough to take the Specter Speeder as well?"

"That?" The Unspeakable's eyes shifted towards the floating vehicle.

"Yes. I don't think that the Fentons want to leave it." Not to mention that the Ministry would probably confiscate it.

"I'm afraid not," the Unspeakable said. "That is clearly a magical vehicle that violates the International Statute on Secrecy-"

"No it's not," Danny snapped. "This is all Muggle tech. See?" He pointed at it with his wand. "_Finite incantatem._"

The Specter Speeder continued to float.

The Unspeakable drew his own wand. Danny grabbed his arm. "Why are you aiming that at my family's car?"

"You might not have done it right," he replied. "I just want to cast my own _finite_."

Danny looked askance at his parents, who nodded their permission. "Nothing'll happen," Jack announced. "We're- what's the word again, Danny?"

"Muggles."

"Yeah, those. Muggles. We're Muggles, so we can't have made this with magic."

The Unspeakable's wand shot a stream of light towards the vehicle. He'd already cast the standard _finite incantatem_ and hadn't seen any results. "Incredible," he breathed. "And you're _Muggles?_ _Muggles _can do this?"

"Of course." Jack's eyes lit up. "Do you wanna hear how?"

"Maybe tomorrow," Danny interrupted. "I'm tired. So are these guys. Right, Harry, Ron, Hermione?" He gave an obviously fake yawn that fooled his parents but not the three Gryffindors.

"But I wanted to blather on about the Specter Speeder," Jack whined.

"I'll owl you with a list of questions," the Unspeakable promised.

"So we'll be pen pals? Sweet! I've always wanted a pen pal."

Hermione gave an equally fake yawn. "I'm quite tuckered out, aren't you, boys?"

"Oh, very," Harry agreed. "Completely pooped." Beside him, Ron made a great show of stretching his arms and rubbing his eyes. "So like Danny was asking, _can_ this take the Specter Speeder?"

"Of course." The Unspeakable lifted his nose into the air. "I have never enchanted a substandard Portkey." Annoyed, he drew Fudge aside for… something.

"Gotcha."

"Hey, Randall," Danny called. "Did you want to go back to the Stone-Den-of-Bacon-and-Worshippers?"

"Hrurr!" The honey badger flew into the Specter Speeder, claimed the entire backseat for himself. Maddie's eye twitched. She reached automatically for her pistol, but Danny's glare stopped her.

"Mom. He's a friend. And if you're going to stay at Hogwarts, you have to promise not to hurt the ghosts there. Say it with me now: Not. All. Ghosts. Are. Evil."

Jack's face twitched.

Danny folded his arms, unrelenting.

Hermione sucked in a gasp. Her eyes were very wide, filled with sudden understanding.

"Next you'll be saying that Phantom's good, too," Maddie complained.

Danny arched a brow. "I've said that already."

"Why don't you make an informed decision after meeting the Hogwarts ghosts?" Hermione suggested. She was speaking rather quickly, just as she always did when excited. "These ghosts have been in the castle for centuries and they've never hurt anybody. They're almost like mascots, but they're sentient beings with afterlives of their own and not sweaty people in animal suits. Just give them a chance. If they try to kill you- which won't happen, so don't worry about it- then you're right and all ghosts are evil."

"What?" The Unspeakable gawked. He had quit his conversation with the Minister in favor of staring at the Muggles in horror. "You honestly believe that all ghosts are evil? That's simply absurd! They're an integral part of the wizarding world, and I assure you, they are exactly as they were in life: some good, some evil, and most in between."

Jack and Maddie exchanged glances. If they hadn't just been proven so spectacularly wrong about wizards, they might not have listened, but seeing the British Ministry and Voldemort had forced them to admit they weren't experts on the entire paranormal world. If they were wrong about wizards, then maybe, impossibly... It would definitely merit further research. Finally, grudgingly, Maddie shook aside her thoughts and asked, "Do you have proof?"

"Not on me, but the documents do exist. I'll owl them to you with my questions about the Specter Speeder. But for now, the students seem to be exhausted." He nodded at Ron, who had paused in mid-stretch when the Fentons began arguing. Blushing, the boy lowered his arms. "Good night. The pass phrase is 'to Hogwarts we go.'"

The six travelers climbed into the Specter Speeder, crowded around the parchment. Maddie winced when Randall brushed up against her but refrained from commenting, much to Danny's delight. He'd almost given up hope that his former- or perhaps not-so-former- parents would realize ghosts weren't all bad. His protests had become more reflexive than real. But if the magical world had proof to the contrary- even better, proof that they might actually listen to!- then….

Well, maybe his days in Britain weren't a complete waste of time after all. His parents might see reason; he'd befriended a honey badger, a bunch of other badgers, and a trio of lions; he had more experience with fomenting discord and leading revolutions; he had become immune to magic; Voldemort was vanquished along with his Death Eaters…. No, it hadn't been a waste.

Not that that would stop him from going home. He'd already been away far too long.

If the halfa hadn't been immediately distracted upon his arrival at Hogwarts, he would have followed those thoughts for quite a while, reflecting on how one never knows how things would turn out. But distracted he was, and, considering what the distraction was, who could blame him?

So it wasn't until Ron yelped a startled, awed curse that he snapped out of his reverie to see what had happened.

Simply put, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was bursting at the seams. Multicolored lights flashed within every window. Fireworks of all shapes and sizes roamed the grounds: wheels and dragons, sparklers that wrote rude words and phrases or C.U.R.E.-related slogans, deafening noisemakers. The earthy odor of Dungbombs permeated the air, making all the newcomers (even Randall, who technically didn't need to breathe) wrinkle their nostrils. Confetti littered the ground. In the distance, a bonfire flickered.

"Is this normal for Hogwarts?" Maddie asked faintly.

Hermione shook her head, mute.

"Is this Operation Tea Party?" Harry asked faintly.

"Well, I think the fire over there might be. The other stuff isn't, though."

"What's Operation Tea Party?" Jack wondered.

Danny flushed. "I was kind of peeved about getting kidnapped, so I started a rebellion. Operation Tea Party is our… um, modern wizardly interpretation of the Boston Tea Party. We were gonna steal the potions professor's potions and ingredients- he's the guy who kidnapped Ron- and dump them into the lake, but apparently someone decided to light them on fire instead."

"Probably because of the merpeople in the lake," Hermione mused.

Danny blanched. "There are merpeople in the lake?" He hoped no one had dumped any potions in there. If his plan ended up poisoning some poor fish person, he'd never forgive himself.

"Yes, but like you said, that bonfire might be potions. Of course, it could also be homework…."

"Let's go check it out," Harry suggested.

It turned out that Hermione was half-right. The students had used their homework assignments to kindle the fire before throwing Snape's potions into the blaze (though they did so under the watchful supervision of Patricia Simmons, who threw up shields whenever necessary). Faces painted with Celtic woad, forty teens surrounded the fire, roasting marshmallows, conspiring, or just resting.

"Hi everyone!" Neville Longbottom, grinning ear to ear, darted up to them. "Want anything? Liz Harper's getting hot dogs." Another firework exploded above his head.

"Hr," Randall answered.

"I'm sure we can get some bacon, but are you sure you don't want to try hot dogs?" It seemed that Neville shared Danny's ability to translate the honey badger's growls.

Randall tilted his head, considering.

"Do you know where Professor Dumbledore is?" Harry asked.

"Last I heard, he was stuck in the Great Toad-Den Swamp."

"What?"

"By Umbridge's office." Neville grinned. "The Weasley twins have portable swamps. They set off a bunch of them- they set off _all _their prank stuff. Peeves got a bunch of paint bombs and taught the armor to sing the Voldemort Song-" Harry, Ron, and Hermione gawked. Had Neville really just spoken that name without flinching? "-and they're running around singing in eight-part harmony, but before that, he got the other ghosts involved. Moaning Myrtle somehow convinced the Giant Squid to help her mess up the plumbing, and a seventh year whose name I can't remember found Hagrid's last Blast-Ended Skrewt and a couple nifflers and some gnomes and sent them into the castle, and Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw found some of her creatures- it's just brilliant!" He laughed. "Did you know that Professor Binns knows how to use a catapult or that we've got a catapult in one of the storage rooms?"

"…No."

Neville laughed again. "Well, he does, and we do. D'you think we got the point across, Danny?"

The halfa beamed. "I think so, yeah."

Neville's smile was downright devilish. "Good."

* * *

><p>Last chapter's meter: 8.65. It would have been higher if I'd included the person who thought it was worth a 50 (15.04, to be exact).<p>

Why is Binns helping the people who are trying to get him kicked out? Suffice to say that Peeves made a deal with him that I will explain next chapter. And speaking of the next chapter, please don't ask when I'll update again. I WILL update, but I rarely know when until I sit down at the computer and start typing my ANs. Therefore, it is a waste of my time and yours to ask when the next chapter will be up, because I NEVER know. I can give blanket estimates- chapter 20 will be up before Halloween- but nothing more specific.

-Corona


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: In which Dumbledore goes swimming**

By the time Harry, Danny, and their companions found Albus Dumbledore (he was attempting to retrieve the Elder Wand from the Great Toad-Den Swamp. Peeves, knowing full well that a well-armed headmaster could spoil all the fun, had stolen it early on and tossed it into the murky depths of the prank), they had almost grown accustomed to the madness within Hogwarts. Armor was singing the Voldemort Song in eight-part harmony? Even Ron stopped flinching at the name after the first couple of verses. The candles in the Great Hall had been welded together into a rather rude wax sculpture? Immature, but it got the point across. Sprout's greenhouses had been TPed? That was a pity- she was a bit nicer than the other teachers. The staircases had been transformed into waterslides? That looked like fun! They actually stopped for a few minutes to try it out.

"We should have done this ages ago," Ron laughed, nimbly sidestepping a flashing firework.

"I just wish Moony and Padfoot could have seen it," Harry said. He paused in mid step, not because he was about to step into a nasty greenish paste consisting of Floo Powder, baking soda, and vinegar (the students had had to get rid of the green stuff somehow, so why not with a volcano?), but because a beautiful thought had occurred to him. "Padfoot… Danny, how do you think your lawyer would react to an innocent man being imprisoned in Azkaban for twelve years without a trial?"

Danny scowled, which was answer enough.

Harry grinned. "You know, I think you might just be the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts."

Jack and Maddie glanced at the chaos around them with dubious expressions.

"No, seriously," Harry explained, noting their skepticism. "Things were good here before, but only on the surface. There were bullies everywhere, even among the teachers, and our lives were endangered almost every year. Not to mention all the trips everyone takes to the Hospital Wing. Your son's methods might be… unconventional… but this is the kind of change Hogwarts needs."

An enchanted airplane flew past bearing the message CITIZENS UNITED FOR REFORM IN EDUCATION.: THE CURE FOR HOGWARTS on a banner that streamed out behind it.

"If you say so," Jack replied, only a bit less doubtful. "Now where's Dumbledore again?"

Harry rechecked the Marauders' Map. "He's right up ahead." They half-trotted the last few dozen feet, turning the corner to witness a once-in-a-lifetime sight: Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, conqueror of Grindelwald, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, soaked in greenish swamp water and attempting to wring out his beard as he muttered imprecations most dire under his breath. He had just finished a failed swamp-diving expedition to retrieve his wand and was a bit put out that his professors were too busy to help- not to mention he couldn't find any of them except Binns.

For a long moment, the Gryffindors and Fentons stood at the end of the hall, just watching the headmaster grumble. The Golden Trio exchanged glances. Finally Harry, who had the most positive experiences with Dumbledore, cleared his throat. "Er, Professor?"

Dumbledore looked up. He saw Harry, saw Danny, who was fighting back gleeful giggles, standing next to him. The headmaster's eyes twitched so violently that his entire face contorted. He'd lost his glasses, which magnified the effect even further. "_Daniel Fenton._" Wet robes slapping against his legs, he stalked forward.

Danny wanted to say something but knew that if he opened his mouth, he'd dissolve into a hysterical heap of hilarity. He decided to keep quiet.

"Professor," began Maddie in a voice of silk-covered steel, "could you please explain why no one mentioned the local terrorist regime to me or my husband?"

Albus started. He hadn't noticed the elder Fentons, just their infernal son. His face twitched again, though much less violently than before. "I'm afraid, Maddie, that it doesn't matter for the purposes of our discussion. Your son is hereby _expelled_ from Hogwarts and all allied schools."

"Yes!" Danny cried, pumping his fist in the air. "And I didn't even have to bust out the sausages!"

Hermione decided that she didn't want to know.

Maddie's eyes narrowed. When she spoke, the silk had evaporated. Only steel remained. "And I'm afraid, Albus, that it _does_ matter."

Dobby the house-elf popped in. He poked Harry's back. "Harry Potter sir," he whispered, "the Overlord of Hufflepuff is requesting enough poppity-corn for all of you." He snapped his fingers. A medium-sized bowl of popcorn appeared in each student's (and Danny's) hands. Another bowl materialized at Danny's feet. "We house-elves will be taking care of refills, sir, so do not worry about those."

Randall hurred his thanks as he dug into the bowl by Danny's feet.

Dobby vanished before Harry could thank him. The boy blinked several times before shrugging and digging in. Oh, yummy- just the right amount of salt and butter with no burnt pieces. Dobby sure knew how to pop corn.

"Yes, it does matter," Jack confirmed. He drew himself up to his full height, dark and menacing despite his garish orange jumpsuit. "Not to mention that Danny's here illegally because you didn't grab his passport. I don't want my son in trouble with the law, Albus."

"I think you're forgetting something, Jack," Maddie added. She pulled out a sleek, shining ecto-gun, held it half-cocked at her side.

Jack blinked at her in confusion before getting it. Deciding to play along, he asked, "Oh? And what might that be?"

"The fact that _one of those terrorists taught here_ for… how many years?" Maddie drummed her fingers against the barrel of her gun. Her voice dripped poison.

"Severus has my complete trust," Dumbledore snapped.

"Funny that you automatically assume she was talking about Snape," Harry observed.

"Their son has already proven himself most hostile to Severus," Dumbledore growled, more angry and short than Harry had ever seen him. "I have no doubt that he has been poisoning their minds against him especially."

Maddie smiled in a way that reminded Harry of Crookshanks. "So our minds have been poisoned against him? He's completely trustworthy?"

"I would not have hired him otherwise."

Jack stomped forward. He towered above the older man, his arms as thick as Dumbledore's waist. Cracking his knuckles, the hunter growled, "Then why did he kidnap Ron here and hand him over to Voldy-whatshisface?"

Miles away, a half-forgotten spell alerted Voldy-whatshisface to the fact that Dumbledore knew about Ron's kidnapping.

Dumbledore's face went whiter than his beard. "What?"

"He kidnapped me," Ron explained. "The next thing I knew, I was waking up in You-Know- er, V-" The redhead screwed up his face, forced the name out "-Voldemort's lair. They were going to use me as bait for Harry."

"And torture practice," Hermione added.

"It's true," Harry confirmed.

Randall chuffed his agreement. Lifting his head from his popcorn bowl, he ambled over to Ron. "Hrrr." The honey badger butted his head against Ron's leg.

Danny translated. "He says that since you've been traumatized, then he will allow you to adore him. Apparently that's good for the soul."

"Hrrr!" Randall nodded.

Dumbledore's face was no longer white. It was gray, the color of a corpse. He stood there shaking for a moment, a horrified old man, before his face flooded with color. "Mr. Weasley, kindly refrain from telling such lies about a professor."

"They're not lies!" the three Gryffindors chorused. Randall snarled.

"Voldemort sent me a letter. He told me to turn myself in if I wanted Ron to live," Harry snarled. "I almost did, too, but we fought him instead."

The red faded from Dumbledore's countenance, replaced once again by gray.

"If you want proof," Danny advised, "go to the Ministry of Magic. We just dropped off a rather large shipment of Death Eaters there. In fact, I think the only one still around is Snape, and Madame Bones said something about sending Aurors for him."

"That was two hours ago," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh. Okay. Maybe he's already gone."

Dumbledore found himself incapable of speech. All he could do was produce a few faint squeak-moans.

"You still haven't told us why that terrorist was in a position to kidnap someone in the first place," Maddie growled. "Or about the other terrorists threatening to plunge your country into civil war."

"I…." Any other time, Dumbledore would have kept silent, but the news of Voldemort's defeat loosened his tongue. "I intended to use your son as a potential ambassador. America didn't help us in the past war, but-"

Jack picked the other man up and dumped him in the swamp.

Albus resurfaced, coughing and spluttering. He sneezed a couple of times- the water had gotten up his nose- then dragged himself onto shore.

He was greeted by the business end of Maddie's ecto-gun. The whirring, glowing, charged, ready-to-fire end of Maddie's ecto-gun. "You intended to get my baby boy involved in _your _war?" she snarled. "You wanted to make him a target of people who would have killed him?" She smiled sweetly. "Danny, honey, why don't you take your friends and go pack? Your father and I want to continue our discussion in private."

"Okay, Mom." Danny dumped the rest of his popcorn into Randall's bowl. He briefly considered going ghost and returning to spy on them invisibly but quickly discarded the idea. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were likely to follow him at least for a while, and he really did need to pack. "Come on, guys."

They trotted through the castle, dodging the occasional firework, toy dragon, or airplane; sliding down the Transfigured staircases; shouting greetings to the merry chaos makers, including Peeves and Professor Binns. The ghost and poltergeist literally cornered Danny. "I understand," Binns began, "that your family is in possession of a portal to the Afterlife?"

"Yeah, we keep it in our basement."

The longing that crossed Binns's face made Danny's heart go out to him. "I am well aware that my classes aren't popular, but until now, I've had nowhere else to go but Hogwarts. Peeves implied that if I helped your Operation Tea Party, you might be inclined to bring me to your ghost world."

"It's called the Ghost Zone," Danny corrected gently, "and I'd love to."

"Speaking of ghosts-" Hermione began. She froze, paused, eyes darting to Harry and Ron. "Danny, may I speak to you for a moment in private, please?"

"Ooh," Peeves giggled. "Ickle Hermy's got a crush, does she?"

"No," she retorted, "I just wanted some tips on making my own ghost hunting gear."

Peeves gulped.

Danny knew a lie when he heard one, and he heard one. "Sure thing. Let's just head over there behind the… um, what _are_ those?"

"They seem to be tap-dancing pineapples."

"Why…?"

"We learn how to enchant them in Charms class."

"That still doesn't explain why, but I'll pretend it did. So, yeah. Let's just go into that room behind the tap-dancing pineapples. See you in a minute, everyone."

"No eavesdropping," Hermione ordered.

The room they entered was relatively untouched by the chaos around them, though its floor was littered with confetti and one amateur graffiti artist had painted a less-than-flattering portrait of Umbridge on the far wall. It also smelled of Dungbombs, but so did the rest of the castle. Hermione and Danny's noses had long since grown accustomed to the reek. They barely noticed it anymore.

"What do you really want to talk to me about?" Danny asked, leaning against the wall.

Hermione drew her wand. Danny's eyes narrowed. "I'm just going to cast a couple of silencing spells," she assured him. "See?" A few swishes and flicks later, she put her wand back in her pocket. But instead of stating her purpose, she hesitated, delayed.

Danny's heart thudded in his chest. He remembered how she had gasped back at the Ministry of Magic. He'd been too occupied with his parents to really think about what it could mean, but was it possible that Hermione knew? She was smarter than Ron or Harry. She'd seen him fight, she'd seen him defend ghosts to his parents. Oh, crap, maybe she really did know.

Hermione noticed the widening of Danny's eyes, his quickening breathing, his sudden tension. "No, no, it's nothing bad," she promised. "Or, if it is bad, it won't get any worse. You must think me very ungrateful if you believe I'm going to betray the person who saved my friend and helped defeat Voldemort."

"You're not going to tell anyone?" Danny couldn't believe it. He relaxed slightly, breath slowing, leaning once more into the wall. Very slowly, carefully, he asked, "Just for the record, what aren't you going to tell people?"

Hermione met his gaze, brown eyes boring into blue. "Nobody needs to know that you have friends in the Ghost Zone. Phantom especially."

Danny went rigid, stiff as a victim of the Body-bind.

"I don't think anyone else will figure it out," she continued. Despite the silencing spells around them, her voice was soft. "Not many people know that you knew about the Horcruxes. I bet your ghost friends told you about them, didn't they? No, no, don't answer me-" She shook her head, bushy hair flying "-I shouldn't have asked. But your determination to get home, your knowledge, your secrecy, even Sir Randall- it all makes sense now. You were trying to protect Phantom."

Like so many other things in Danny's half-life, it was almost the truth but also a lie. Yes, he had been trying to protect Phantom- himself- from these wizards. Yes, Phantom was directly or indirectly responsible for his determination to get home, his knowledge of Horcruxes and Occlumency, his obsessive secrecy (okay, paranoia), and even Sir Randall Meme the Ferocious, Overlord of Hufflepuff.

"I don't know the entire story," Hermione went on. "I don't know just how close you are to Phantom or how close he is to us-" Danny's eyes nearly popped out of his head, which the Gryffindor couldn't fail to notice. Not that she commented, of course "-and I admit that I dearly want to hear the answers to my questions, but that would be horribly poor repayment for Ron's life." She smiled. "You have my word that I'll keep your secret. I won't go looking for holes or trying to figure you out. It will be hard, but I can and will do it."

Danny didn't know how to answer. He'd never been in this situation before, never had someone so dangerously close to the truth. Could he trust her? For all he knew, this was some kind of ploy to make him cough up his alter ego, to imprison the most famous ghost in the world. And yet… she seemed so sincere. Should he deny it? But if he did, how could he? The ghost explanation fit because it was so, so close to the truth. It explained everything without putting him in danger. It would keep him and Danni safe, help Amity Park by keeping the wizards further away.

"You're sure?" Danny didn't like how his voice sounded, all childish and afraid. He didn't like the fear thudding in his chest twisting his guts.

"I promise," Hermione reiterated. "And as assurance…." She winced. "You know that I was partly responsible for… er… stealing your mail. If you want, I'll sign a written confession about that. Then, if I ever betray you, you can send Mrs. Simmons against me."

Danny remained silent.

Hermione shuffled her feet. "I don't have a quill or parchment on me now, but-"

The halfa rediscovered his voice. "Don't."

"Sorry?"

"Don't. Just the fact that you're willing says a whole lot. Besides, I don't intend to stick around long. If this ever does come out, I won't know whether you spilled the beans or if Dumbledore figured it out."

Hermione's eyebrows pulled together. "Oh. I didn't think of that, but I suppose he is intelligent enough to figure it out. More than intelligent enough," she amended. "Oh dear." Her head tilted to the side. "I… I really don't like the thought of blackmailing the headmaster, but…."

Danny smiled. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks." He extended a hand.

She beamed. "You're welcome."

The two teenagers exited the classroom with smiles on their faces. Peeves opened his mouth, wanting to tease them, then thought better of it.

They spent the rest of their walk in companionable silence. When they reached the basement, the Golden Trio headed to Snape's office to see if he had been taken. Danny continued on to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

Packing didn't take long. He didn't exactly have a bunch of possessions here at Hogwarts, and the few he had were neatly organized (Jazz and Sam had rubbed off on him). Besides, his dorm was empty, so he could risk using his ghost powers to expedite the process. Bags packed almost to bursting, he hoisted them into the air and trotted down the stairs. His steps were light, but he couldn't help but feel a bit sad. His time with the wizards hadn't been all horrible, and not all magic users were complete idiots he just wanted to punch. He'd have to write to them.

As though summoned by his thoughts, Malcedema met him by the entrance to the rest of the school. She hooted smugly, settled down on his shoulder. Danny ran his fingers down her back. "Ready to go to Amity Park?" he asked.

The owl trilled.

"Me too," Danny replied. "I think you'll like it there, Dema. My girlfriend Sam will love you, and I bet that my sister Jazz will think you're the coolest thing ever." He smiled. His owl was another good thing about the wizarding world. "It'll be good to be home."

* * *

><p>Last chapter's meter: 9.61<p>

This is pretty much it, folks. Only the epilogue remains. *wipes away a tiny tear* They grow up so fast!

Hermione has a point. It wouldn't be nice at all to keep snooping around Danny's business after he helped them whup Voldemort. Hermione might be a bit of a know-it-all, but she does have standards. She's not going to tell.

-Corona


	21. Chapter 21

**Epilogue: In which Danny gets a letter**

"Mom, Dad, I'm back!" Danny trotted through the door, feeling better than he had in days. He'd run into his parents during a ghost fight, and they said "Good job" to him! In his ghost form! That hadn't happened since- since- since _never._ They hadn't even twitched their guns (their eyes had been another story) in his direction this time, not like they had ever since his return from Britain. Whatever Unspeakable Croaker was telling them in their letters, it was having a very pleasant effect.

"Hi, honey!" Maddie yelled. There was a squelching noise from somewhere in her general vicinity. "You've almost got it, Jack." Switching her attention back to her son, she added, "You have mail, Danny."

"_Squereererererekl!_"

"…Do I want to know what that is?"

"Probably not," his mother confessed. "But we'll be eating out tonight, I think. _Mph._" In the kitchen, something cracked. "Take that, you foul monstrosity!"

"Hssss…."

Danny hesitated. Well, he was in a pretty good mood, so….

One wrestling match against a horrible creature of unidentified origin later, the halfa made his way to his room. "Hi, Malcedema. We're going to have Mexican tonight, so I'll try to smuggle you some burrito meat."

The owl whistled her approval. The other owl, pale as snow with black markings, hooted.

Danny grinned. "Sorry, Hedwig. Mom mentioned that I had mail, but then we had to fight some… I don't even know what… in the kitchen, so I forgot all about that." He untied the letter from her leg. "Do you like burrito meat?"

Hedwig tilted her head.

"Well, you won't know unless you try. I'll get you some too. Now, how's your Harry doing?" Danny unrolled the letter.

Hedwig hooted. "Good," the halfa said.

_Dear Danny,_ the missive began in Harry's messy scrawl,

_All's still well. The Death Eater trials are finally winding down (you have no idea how much of my time testifying took up, and in my O.W.L. year, too). That means we can finally get started on other things, like your case against Hogwarts and my custody trial. Patricia says that we have a watertight case for freeing Sirius. We'd probably have one even without Wormtail being captured with the other Death Eaters. You've heard about her reaction when she learned that us Brits don't use Veritaserum at every trial, right? I don't think that Fudge has recovered yet, and it's been almost two months!_

_Speaking of Fudge, you owe me five Galleons. He held onto the position of Minister two whole days (and some hours, but who's counting) longer than you thought he would._

"Darn it," Danny grumbled. He'd been so sure of that bet, too.

Hedwig's answering hoot was a bit too smug.

"He got lucky, that's all," Danny huffed. "Just help me remember to send the money with you, okay? Thanks." He returned his attention to the letter.

_Dumbledore decided to stay headmaster but dropped his political jobs. I think his reasoning was that it would take too much work to clean up Hogwarts and everywhere else. He wants to do one thing at a time- Hermione says that he believes that things got so bad because he overstretched himself. If he 'narrows his focus' a bit, he should be fine. Well, maybe. He's still on probation in my book- in all our books. _

_He needs a new wand, though. Randall ate his old one and shoved the remnants up Draco Malfoy's nose. It took Madam Pomfrey ten whole minutes to get all the splinters out. That doesn't sound like much time, but you have to take into account that she was using magic._

The handwriting changed here, becoming larger and messier.

_You also have to take into account the fact that Malfoy deserved it,_Ron wrote. _He's a git._

Harry took over again. _Yes, we're all quite happy with Randall now. Even Hermione, which is hard to believe but still true._

The girl herself took over in the next paragraph.

_**If you had met Malfoy, you would have agreed. Suffice to say that he's the son of Lucius Malfoy, one of Voldemort's worst Death Eaters (I've enclosed the charges against him in case you're curious), and he wholeheartedly believes in his father's propaganda. He's a lot like a younger, snobbier version of Snape who isn't obsessed with potions.**_

_**With Snape (and Umbridge, and Filch, and Binns) gone, life here at the castle is the best it's ever been. A fellow named Horace Slughorn teaches Potions- he's brilliant! He actually teaches us what to do, not just pointing to instructions on a blackboard and attempting to murder toads. Defense has been renamed Dueling and is taught by Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. Mrs. Simmons brought in one of her friends, Professor Clio Wright, to teach History of Magic. We don't have a replacement for Filch because the house-elves are taking care of that- for now.**_

_**That reminds me- enclosed is your S.P.E.W. membership badge and the badges you requested for your family. Hopefully, with all the new support we've gotten, we can actually get somewhere before the decade's over. **_

_In other words, life is good here at Hogwarts, _Harry summarized. _Thank you._

A soft smile graced Danny's face.

There was more to the letter, of course, basic things about their day-to-day life, about difficult Charms assignments and Quidditch games, but it was the first few paragraphs that stuck in the halfa's mind. The evil wizards were all in jail, the students of Hogwarts were standing up for themselves, and Patricia Simmons was more than capable of handling whatever the other magic-users threw at her. And somehow, all that had come to pass without anyone realizing that Phantom was involved.

Or so Hermione claimed. On the back of the letter, she had enclosed a hidden message written in lemon juice, a message that Danny quickly uncovered by using his fire powers to warm the parchment.

_**It's been two months, and no one has said anything. Personally, Danny, I think that that's a sign. If no one has figured anything out yet, then no one ever will. You'll fade more and more from their collective consciousness, becoming nothing more than a fond memory. Perhaps, years from now, an adult will look back and wonder how you did all these things, but by then it will be too late. **_

_**Admittedly, I don't have any way of knowing whether Professor Dumbledore suspects anything. I know that you were worried about that, but he seems to want as little to do with you as possible. This might be because he's worried about Mrs. Simmons, but I doubt it. He's used to being right. You reminded him that he's only human, and I'm not sure if he appreciated that reminder as much as he should have. **_

_**My point is, your secret is still safe. It's growing safer every day. **_

_**Harry and Ron are getting impatient, so I'll cut off here. Goodbye again, Danny. I hope you're well.**_

_**With gratitude, **_

_**Hermione**_

The halfa smiled once again at the letter. For the thousandth time, he made a mental note to get Hermione in touch with Jazz. The two intellectuals would hit it off immediately. And he'd have to write the Gryffindor girl another thank-you note. He'd sent her a couple already, and she claimed that he really didn't have to ("Harry and Ron are starting to suspect that I've got a secret admirer!"), but he wanted her to know how deeply he appreciated her silence. Danny Fenton-Phantom knew more than anyone how hard it was to keep secrets from loved ones.

"Danny!" his mother called. "Get your shoes on! We're heading out!"

"Coming, Mom," he yelled back, pushing himself off his bed. The letter remained behind, not forgotten but simply laid aside. He had time to write the Gryffindors back after supper or even after patrol, because what would happen to them? Nothing. They, like the rest of wizarding Britain, were safe.

All was well.

* * *

><p>Finitum est. It's done. Yay?<p>

A lot of you have asked about a sequel. There probably won't be one. I had always thought of this as a stand-alone, a quit-while-you're-ahead thing, and have no intention of spoiling _Spirited Away _with a cheap spin-off. HOWEVER, there is a very, very small chance that I'll get bitten by a rabid plot bunny and come up with something awesome in this universe. IF that happens (and it's a big if), it won't happen for a long, long, long time.

Last chapter's meter: 7.29.

Cumulative meter: 6.64.

Thank you all for reading. You guys are great!

-Corona


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